Wilting

Last night I went for a walk in the rain —
The wet droplets piercing my jugular vein —
Flooding my body, from nose to toes,
‘Til I surged from my bud like a petaling rose.

Out in the distance, beyond the dark road,
The rain falling hard, a black figure showed.
Flailing quite madly in the vicious night breeze,
It galloped towards me with a masterful ease.

I focused my eyes on this ghost I could see,
But I fathomed that all I could see was a tree.
Just me and a tree, alone in the spray.
Alone, yet again; I’m wilting away.