The cold, stinging rain,
Pitter patter shhhhhhh
It slaps my head,
Like the cold smack
From the hand of death.

I run, splashing, spraying, slopping
Through puddles
Rippling my way along,
Layer, layer, layer,
Peeling back the skin of the onion.

My head bobs,
Up, down, up, down,
Dancing to the uncanny rhythm
That is being beat out
Upon nature’s call.

Finally, is that the light?
It is! My beacon, it shines,
Slicing through the icy night,
Illuminating my face,
Expressing the glory that it brings me.

I throw open the door,
BANG!
They greet me, smiling.
Suddenly, I trip, fall,
My eyes open, and I awaken,
Safe in my bed,
Home.