*** in the Mist

The cryptic sirens be wailing
A death march marked a tune
The house was dark and waiting
A black hearse arriving soon

An old man sitting on a porch
His head down in his hands
His partner of some forty years
Had taken her final stand

The flashing lights were crying
Like twinkling comet lights
And the moon stood deftly quiet
Like a quagmire in the night

In an age of passing onward souls
The clock would tick on two
Of life and death in parallel
Sans the forgone of their youth

Yet both be same in married name
And their child be a shining star
And in a life so adrift in emptiness
In memories long gone far