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No Waves

by Patrick Granger
Chapter 2
A curl of pale light waited where the highway bent,
a thinning shimmer drawn across the cold night air.
I felt it first, a pressure shaped like intent,
as if the dark remembered why I wandered there.

No face appeared, yet something leaned toward me slow,
resting its weight upon the painted line,
as though it knew the places I refuse to go
and meant to guide my footsteps back to mine.

The gravel stirred beneath my hesitant tread,
stones shifting like old truths rising through dust,
and in my beams a figure formed, soft as dread,
vanishing when I reached out in blind trust.

But in the mirror, after the road turned still,
its quiet lingered, close enough to fill.