Image by Stefan Keller from Pixabay 

Moon Dust


Late February, a cold moon hung in the sky
I could feel moon dust in the air
The stuff that dreams are made of
Once in a while, a dream lingers
Demanding to be remembered
Turn the page to a darker side
Nightmares can haunt for weeks
When a walk in the woods becomes a horror movie
When a hand shoots up from the ground
Dragging you under through the roots
On either side of the path, they whisper to each other
A strange place where flowers grow in the dark
Beautiful to look at, don’t touch they bite
Being bitten by a rose is no fun
Don’t go near the tall grass, they whip your skin
Like an overgrown task master
I expect to see welts on my skin when I wake
Thank God, they are never there
I am grateful for the night terrors
Working on my mind
Now, I have a new novel to write…

©AnitaDawes2022

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