The Dark, Cold and Rainy Autumn Morning

A poem for Halloween

Photo by Walter P.o.p. Matthews IV

As a dark figure begins

To walk down these desolate streets
In the rhythm of nature
But he has his own beat
I walk over puddles
Of shallow water
But I feel ever so deep
I come to life
On this dismal morning
While others are
Wrapped in the warm arms of sleep

The wind blows the Autumn leaves
Misty precipitation
Is on my face
I feel separated from
The rat race

I walk at my own pace

In this cold rain

My spirit gets baptized
In the most refreshing Bath
As the amber
Street lamps literally and figuratively

Light my path

I come alive
and feel restored by
This visual gloom

My spark in the Darkness

Are my gifts that
Make room.

For me.

© Walter P.o.p. Matthews IV