Sitting on an old bench across the play ground in Sweeney Park
Six feet from the bench stands a cast iron street lamp of olden
The night air holds a chill like no other I have felt in a long time
This sudden chill has made me wish I'd worn a thicker sweater
I pulled out a cigarette, lit a match and blew my first puff out
As I flicked the match away, that's when I realized the silence
Sunset was nearing; still there would've been sounds of traffic
It was an eerie silence, you know; the chilled to the bone feeling
Just then the street lamp caught my eye, as it flickered for life
The lamp made a tired hissing sound as the flame grew brighter
The sun gasped it last breath as a deep blue ascended the sky
All of a sudden there was the loudest POP! Just like a gun shot!
Here I sit with my heart in my throat and finding it hard to breath
Everything is quiet, not a sound except the thumping of my heart
Then I broke out laughing like a fool, that POP! took me by surprise
It was the street lamp's flame that blew out, it sounded like a gun
Sitting on this bench in the dark, no light except a haunting moon,
Gives the entire surroundings an amazing deep blue coloring all over
There's a chilly crisp touch to everything, a brightly magical sparkle
As I look around, I guess you could say it looked sort of wizardly-like
As I blew my breath out, the wildest thing happened, It was creepy
In slow motion it extended outward and up, cascading into one swirl
Then another swirl moved over and under, in between, snake-like braiding
The more it grew, the more it glowed an iridescent blue laced in black
Each time I exhaled the glow got brighter, the feeling darker than the last
This entire child like fantasy had a realization forming in the night air
The sky deepening to black, it felt as though the stage were being set for
Something child-like, but evil was its guardian, I am to witness the coming.
I sat in this staging, wondering what evil this evening would produce...
Just then the street lamps began to go out, POP!, POP!, POP!, Pop!,
Pop!, pop, po, p---one after the other, following the walkway all around
No laughing now, Sweeney and I were now witnessing "A Chill Like No Other."
by Richard Lee Cook
Copyright 2011
An SILVERFEATHER Creation