PITCH

Sunshine, sparkle, rainbows, bright lights a-new,
The opposite of those things darkness brings to ensue.

Evil, macabre and sinister glares,
The old wicked witch awakes in her lair.

A cliché view of darkness once more,
The real dark times come from closing the door.

It creaks slowly back, the triangular shaft,
It dissipates slowly, along with the draught.

Not a light to be found, no candle to flicker,
No phone screen to glare, no backdrop of 'Twitter'.

No bulb shining brightly above your bonny head,
No lighting at all, the air surrounding feels dead.

Your eyes widen fiercely in anticipation of a glint,
A shaft, a slight glow, the faintest shine or a tint.

Alas dear friend, this time - nothing is to be found,
You are alone in the absence, feet firmly on the ground.

Wait, but are you alone? You have no way of knowing,
You have no sense of direction, you don't know where you're going

Blackness is so present, so dense - don't you find?
Especially for something that is only absence in mind

Memories come back, the Sandman's work's abiding,
Krueger is lurking and the Boogeyman crouches hiding.

Darkness is death and yet darkness is serene,
Darkness is coming yet it cannot be seen.


AFRIENDOFTINA (Tom Hendy)
*apologies, I literally wrote this off the cuff