DRIVING AT NIGHT

DRIVING AT NIGHT

The world is a different place,

When driving through the countryside at night.

The occasional halogenic eye spears darkness,

And it’s all that sheds any light.

The crowding walls, hunched shoulder of hedge,

Limit breathing, like the dank air of a tomb.

The phosphoric glow of Hanch Hall tower,

Marking your place in the darkening gloom.

Is the ‘Lady in grey’ silently waiting,

By the crossroad Oak around the bend?

The voices muted on your radio,

Your only salvation and friend.

Trees reach out across the road,

Tentacles trying to entrap you.

Their feathery fingers, surely undead,

Like a dreadful and decaying Nosferatu.

The shapeless, looming houses,

Lack the warmth of a roaring fire.

Standing lonely draped in shrouding mist.

Like a swirling, hell bound night flier.

I try not to upset the spirits,

As I sense the ghouls amassed.

Both hands clasped tightly to wheel,

Till my journey through ‘Crom Dubh’

Has passed.

Phil Hall   April  2013