The Insecure Poem

It was a dark & stormy night.

Actually,

it wasn’t that dark—

just dusky.

The storm?

More of a drizzle.

But, still, it was menacing.

Like a puppy

you knew might grow up

& bite you—someday.

Or, maybe,

the day after that.

Chills

ran up & down

my spine.

Mild chills—

not cold ones.

(Walking briskly.)

What happened next?

Don’t remember.

Fell asleep, I think.

Drifted off.

Napped.

Got snoozy-woozy.

But when I woke up,

it was dark.

& stormy.

Mostly.

Really dark.

& raining—sort of.

(c) 2019