She looked back once at the silvery sky,
And then half-afraid of the fear it caused inside her,
Hurried, looking down,
Never once thought about overcoming the fear.
She glanced, once more,
Out of curiosity, at the moon,
Thought how she could stand in the dark so cheerful,
And yet not feel afraid?
Trudging ahead, did she see a tree,
Standing tall, despite branches bent by wind,
Then she looked at the black night one final time,
Nothing. This time she felt . . . nothing.