Unlatching her front door
she stepped into the rain;
a cold, bitter rain, that was
pinching her upturned face

She was afraid of the dark;
she was afraid of drowning
She stood outside in the night,
allowing the rain to pelt her face

Fear felt appropriate tonight,
soothingly familiar, while
her tears bled together with
rain, pooling around her feet

Puddles formed little streams,
flowing out into the culverts
where all nightmares flow
on starless, moonless nights.

©Brenda-Lee Ranta




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