Friday, 3 April 2015


I lay on my bed, pillow behind my head,

And I stare into the dark, eyes caught on looming shadows,

At night the world changes, warps into something of dread,

Something that moves and breathes and grows.

So I lay atop my doona, ready to run unbound,

Should one of the silhouettes reach out and pull me from the safe and sound,
To the place where monsters tread,
Rain splatters the window pane, the streetlamps turning the water’s spray gold

I long to see the shimmering curtain pounding the roof above my head.

But I scarcely look, for fear that when I do the shadows will take me away to damp and cold.  

No comments:

Post a Comment