Your Worst Nightmare

Your Worst Nightmare

This must be a special dream,
for I can't move a muscle.
Quiet voices over me it seems,
the reverent whispers so subtle.

I feel so toasty warm and cozy
in a fancy velvet bed so nice.
Life seems to be soft and rosy,
immovable as if in a vice.

Now I seem to be moving along.
I don't know when I will stop.
On a ride that's bumpy and long,
a silent trip no one can top.

Suddenly my soft bed is moved,
it feels like I'm going down.
I think the air has cooled,
so quiet, not a single sound.

Oh boy! My finger just moved.
I could almost utter a weak cry.
Yell! I can't my lips feel glued.
My God! I've been buried alive!

© Copyright 2005 T.L.Finch (UN: t.l.finch at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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