In moonlight,
Embraced by malice-blunting haloes,
You enjoy evening like larks do mischief,
Welcoming every sort of mystery.
Till the hug holds for a little too long,
Beginning to strangle,
Like quicksand with resistance,
Harder and harder to escape.
Roots tripping the feet,
Branches striking your gut,
And other, more fanciful problems dog-piling in,
But no villain to gloat.
Though,
Just as the first saltwaters wash,
Skin-sliding,
Slip-slopping, no sunscreen, down,
An arm,
Beckons you home.
Here, here, here,
Follow the tendrils of light,
Beaming so strong and bright,
The path to darkness' delight.
![](https://img.wattpad.com/cover/364326011-288-k556218.jpg)
YOU ARE READING
Waiting for the Rain to Fall
PoetryPoems that twine thread around the broken bits of a soul, that fling umbrella lips into beaming buckets and kind of just make you want to say, "life is beautiful, isn't it?" - a totally unbiased review from me, the author.