Crafty nights

The day is innocent but the night is crafty

working overtime its spinnerets of complexities

weaving a web so intricate and labyrinthine

which welcomes with its nuanced artistry

of spangled stars and galvanic galaxies

I fall under its black magical spell

to find myself intoxicated
by the darkness

that beckons so alluringly and suddenly

I find myself spiralling into a nightmare

I scramble and scratch and slip and slide

skinning my knees and heart

just when I think I am losing the battle

my eyes flutter open, my tenacity wins

I like days; they are innocent

nights are as deviously crafty as they can be!

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