Waiting for the Moon


Beneath a canopy of trees
so green it hurt my eyes,

I was afraid.
The sharp grass crackled,
then withered underfoot.
Stepping gingerly on
the parched & cracked
path that leads only away from

Dark against the bright world,
this melancholy place
overgrown. The atmosphere close;
I want to scream.
No space between the trees for sound.
Creaking, rotten,
the darkness of the wood.
Nothing to do
but go on loving you


  • Having hope

    Nicely written 👌

  • 2 more comments

  • L. B. Mek

    'No space between the trees for sound.'
    that's one of those lines we all wish we had written
    a great read! dear poet

  • Vijaya Bhanu Kote

    A green meadow too appears dry when it it takes you away from the one you love.
    Intense indeed.

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