Oh we still are frightened children;
pulling the blankets a little higher and putting down our heads on legs, ones that shiver with the thought of what awaits us.
No bedside lamp for this dark, to stop the shapes from becoming monsters, we are sword-less but shrieking in whimpers for help. And the world seems to become so much larger once you breathe a little faster, and slowly the warmth goes away just as you begin to wonder when light was last seen by your eyes.
But as the sun decides to save you, you realise;
fear should never have had become our residence,
not when we had a room, in a home with blankets to protect us for when the lights go out.
So we get out of bed, trembling,
but eventually meant to be
o k a y
until it begins all over again.
tinkerer of words 