Still Air Poem by Alan Bruce Thompson

No sound in the night, no noise in the air,
No light makes no shadow, nothing to scare.
In the darkness it's even friendly, no worry, no care.

But what's detached from the gloom, what's been hiding there?
It stretches up from the black, steps out of its lair,
Confronts us in its shade, from within our own nightmare!

It unfolds itself, disentangles its hair,
It's eyes open wider, and entrap us in its stare,
This is the monstrous reminder of the end of the affair!