With hands stretched out
I feel my way in darkness;
Pitch black is all I see
Without direction, sky starless.
The calls of crickets
Drowned by my thumping heart;
That's all I can hear
And smell my own fart.
Fumble with my watch
But battery's screaming low,
Ahhh!!! Made in China
Can't find that digital torch.
Gingerly step around
One foot in front of the other
Am I on solid ground?
Rest first and take cover.
*Photo by Alan Cabello on Pexels