I Write, and Having Written, Move On

Escape

Into the night we run
Hand in hand through the forest
we evade capture
Pulses racing, sweat beading, our hearts enraptured
Clothes torn on branches, skin sliced by thorns
As if by the devil himself
His sharp fingernails and horns
A clearing in the wood
offers respite
So out of the dark
we step into the moonlight
Exhausted we collapse
Our captor eluded
Pure joy expressed, passion denuded
A stolen moment, precious time bought
Then a twig snaps

Our heads turn


We are caught.