Walking With the Moon
Breeze whispering in my ears.
Puddles on the ground,
Reflecting the heavens and the moon above.
Potholes brimming with rainwater,
Teasing; a perfect invitation for splashing around.
A cool starless misty night.
The streetlights seem ghostly,
Through a misty haze.
Rushing of wings; hooting owls, and,
Mist doesn’t enslave my eyes anymore.
Folded jeans; bunch of friends,
Cracking jokes in a lighter vein.
Heading for the tea vendor on the sidewalk,
Walking along the windswept winding roads,
Lining my neighbourhood.
The moon bears witness,
Pushing through the clouds.
Small trails of dew visible,
In dark, tangled foliage,
Leaves cover the path, undisturbed.
I saunter softly by a jagged tree trunk,
Through the lonely dark valley,
Sorting through life’s’ simple pleasures, and utter miseries.
Knowing; realizing; that sometimes answers are only found,
When you feel alive, walking with the moon.