Poetry: Santosh Bakaya

Santosh Bakaya
Fire- fly patterns: A Villanelle
 
I could see a red glow tracing fire- fly patterns in the dark. 
It made me feel eerie, visibly shuddering in every bone.
An owl hooted; alas, I was face to face with danger stark.

Was it the chilling, tangible breath of the grave, oh hark! 
A figure leapt out at me, I gasped, emitting a painful groan. 
I could see a red glow tracing fire- fly patterns in the dark.

My head throbbed painfully; did I just see an exquisite lark?  
I was all nerves, and my jerky heart did nothing but drone. 
An owl hooted; alas, I was face to face with danger stark.

Did I see wisps of smoke coming towards me from the park?
I heard a frantic flutter of wings; had the exquisite lark flown?  
I could see a red glow tracing fire- fly patterns in the dark.  

My flesh seemed as if an ice cold needle had left its mark.
I could hear crisp, jerky commands; suddenly a light shone.  
An owl hooted; alas, I was face to face with danger stark.

But the light shone, illuminating me with a hopeful spark. 
The fireflies now broke into dance, no longer was I alone.  
I could see a red glow tracing fire- fly patterns in the dark. 
An owl hooted; alas, I was face to face with danger stark.

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