The nightmare keeps returning - burning the remains -
there's blood upon the bedspread - red spreads, dries and stains -
The dream contains a lesson you're not learning.
There's a shadow on the landing standing by your door.
Your bedside rug is shifting, lifting from the floor -
And there is more that you're not understanding.
The hand that counts the seconds beckons to the knife.
Back to its frame's returned the burned picture of your wife -
there's something in your life demands redress she reckons.
There's a memory you keep spurning, are yearning to forget -
You plead you've since paid dearly, have really paid your debt:
and yet -
the nightmare keeps returning.
Honorable winner
Bronze trophy winner
Adding your comment:
) it really gives this extra beat to the poem itself and actually adds to the flow too 
