Lessons of time,
Tick, tock, hear the clock chime,
Tell me what’s the time?
Its 2am and I’m click clacking my pen,
Tip, tapping again.
I like the sound it makes,
To my scattered brain,
It makes some sense.
The quiet scared me once tonight,
A ghost stood beside My bedside.
I think he wanted to remind me,
Of all the words of men,
Words that, to him had once been said.
Maybe, he wanted to warn me,
Of everything to come,
It could quite likely, be that way,
Where no stones left unturned.
As I turned to ask the question,
That had been playing on my mind,
The ghost had then vanished,
From anywhere in my view of sight.
I wanted to ask him,
How it was, he had come to have died?
And why it was now, he walks around in the dead of night
But only in rooms, with a switched on light?