Wandering

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The night, dark and moonless
Brightened only by few stars
A low light
Illuminated by an oil lamp
One foot after the other

Walking, walking
A stumble
A knee and four fingers on the ground
Curses as hand brush against damp cloth
More walking

The voices, talking in under tones
Jumbled phrases, beckoning
Clear one moment
Meaningless the next
Before they get loud

Snickering, persuading
A low chuckle
Mocking, daring
Those voices, ununderstandable
Yet familiar

Slippery fingers, twitching
Trying to grasp and failing
Once agile, fast
Now slow, useless not
But unsteady, shaking

More grasping
Eyes focused in concentration
Lips licked in anticipation
Satisfied smile flickering
Yes, winning, winning


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