I pick up my phone-

A message from my friend.

They said to meet them at the park,

At quarter past ten.

I get disturbed by the message,

And wonder why,

They want to meet me,

So late at night?

I could not help but wonder,

And stare at the text,

Why they would ask that,

And what would happen next.

As I stare up at my bedroom ceiling,

In distress and disarray,

At the flaking paint,

Just floating away.

I think of good things,

Like stargazing with some tea,

And wonder if,

Thats why my friend wanted me.

So I pack up my bag,

With a charger and some snacks,

And kiss my mom goodbye,

And close the door with a smack.

I set off into the night,

Hoping I’d be come home,

Before morning light,

In the settled, morning snow.