It's raining, it's pouring
But the old man isn't snoring
He's out by the lake
I'm trying to stay awake
Hoping soon he'll get going
I've been planning and planning
And tonight's the night
There's no room for hesitating
I have to get this right
He's getting to the boat with a slow walk
He's tugging the boat lose from the dock
I'm untying the rope from around my foot
I'm trying to remember the place where I put,
My supplies, the ones which will get me out of here
I see him disappear
Into the fog and down stream
The time has come to escape this dream
What am I saying?
This isn't a dream.
This is a nightmare between me and the demon.
No time to pause and wait
The sun is rising soon and then it'll be too late
I get to work poking at the lock
I keep stealing glances over to the dock
I push and I pull until the lock comes free
I push at the door slowly and check
The old man is no where near me
I make a run, a dash, a sprint
I make it through the forest and stop and squint
I fall down on the ground
Knowing now that I'm safe and sound
Away from the demon
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
i wish you would give some details in the poets comments it is a clear reference to a very tense and horrifying experience you have done well in maintaining the white knuckle drama...the fear is palpable.. written very well liked