Mystic Moonlight By Cynthia L.B. Bogear
Written August 3, 2014
I hear a faded whisper,
Blowing through the cold night.
I feel a brisk breeze,
Blowing from the east.
The fog is all but lifted,
While sounds creep from the streets.
I walk in the darkness,
Cautious of all that roam.
I turn to the left and then the right,
Making sure to stay out of sight.
I hear the clicking of my heels,
As I walk on the road.
Wait what's that I hear,
Am I not alone,
My pace quickens,
My heart begans to race.
I feel a bead of sweat,
It flows down my face.
Should I turn around,
Should I run as fast as I can go.
My blood rushes through me,
My head begans to spin.
A hand reaches for me,
I see something in the mystic moonlight.
The mystic moonlight,
Is it nothing more than a tease.
Does it control our thoughts,
Does it work our imagination,
So many possiblities to come to,
But it's just the Mystic Moonlight.