The Shadow Of My Death Poem by Herbert Nehrlich

I felt a presence,
somewhere behind
no sound was heard
no breath was felt
no ghost in sight.

Yet something was
so near me I could sense
its purpose in this night.

Perhaps the film
with Charles from Poland,
had stirred something
inside my soul,
I had accepted that he,
Bronson, affected me
in curious ways.
'And miles to go,
before I sleep',
it was the signal
to a mind of innocence,
now scripting him
to maim and kill.

So, in my quiet desperation
I laughed out loud,
then shrugged my shoulders,
and whistled my most favourite,
'Allons enfants de la patrie',
but it was not the breath of joy
or carefree walking in the dark
that stopped to say Hello.

The window of the Bridal Shop,
reflecting gaily and with glitter,
the one who had accompanied
this lonely wanderer, it was
the one and only, the inevitable
it was the Shadow of My Death.