The Path Lycanthropic

Some paths have a way of changing character after dark
For many it is in the lay of the land

in the play of the shadows

from the streetlamps and the moon alone

But for some it is in

the flow of her hair

and the shine in her smile

that remind you of Happiness

And most of all it is in her being at the wrong end of the path

There is always some sort of debris on these paths
Some newspapers or cans rolling around
Or dry fallen leaves if they are in season

(and they are always in season on these paths)

And you walk along these paths amid these miscellany

that you brought out

Disorganized miscellany
A bunched bundle of intentions exploded and scattered
You walk along and brush them aside with your feet
You plod along
Under the fretful stars and brooding moon
To your silent lonely room
Hoping to gather back your intentions in the morning.