Intruder Poem by victoria driver

Sounds like someone downstairs, creeping through my house,
Tiptoeing up the stairs, quiet as a mouse.
They reach my bedroom door, intend to take my life,
They grip the handle before taking out a knife.
Easing into my abode, they see me in my bed,
They're planning how to kill me, how to stop me dead.
They approach my bedside and hold up the blade,
And plunge it deep into my chest, the slightest bit unswayed.
I wake to see the burglar and the bloody show,
And try to call my father as my heart begins to slow.
They back away and know I'm beat,
But stop when they reach my feet.
With yellow hands they lower their hood,
Almost seizing my flow of blood.
Can it be? It can't! You're dead!
I buried you. The tears I shed.
The sickly face you bear reminds me of the truth,
And I recall the day you died, the day I hit the roof.
I questioned your love for me, as you ran to God so fast,
I knew our bond just couldn't last.
That was the day you fled, and went to your new life,
The day I felt my heart snap, like a stabbing from a knife.
I never wanted you to leave, I love you still today,
And although I know you love me, I'll never hear you say.
So goodbye seems to be in order, I'll say my peace and leave,
Until we meet again Mother, I love you but I shall not grieve.
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