Everyone has them, shadows in the dark that look like like demons....that is what this is about
My head resting on soft pillows
My body aches from the stress of the day
My stomach aches from the burritos
I ate a half a day ago.
My mind wanders
Thinking of the interview I have at noon
I worry about the last of the fruit loops
Will they be there in the morning?
Or will that child sneak through the night and devour them?
That thought fills my mind and my heart
My eyes look for the relief of seeing the child's door still closed
Instead, I see images hiding in the shadows thrown by the street
lights shining through rips in a curtain I should
have replaced years ago.
The golden light becomes things, evil things
The things my mother told me about when I was bad.
The candy wrapper from the bar I ate last
flies from space on the floor I reserved for it.
As it flies the eyes of evil seem to follow
Watching every move it makes
I watch as they move around the room
They touch everything
They look at everything
They watch that crummy piece of paper.
Just as they find the paper hiding in the toe of my slipper
I hear that scream that comes every night.
I dread hearing it but I welcome the sounds
'Daddy, can I have a glass of water."
I clap my hands to turn on the light next to my head
and all of the evil disappears.
I smile, hug my son and give him the glass of water
I am grateful for that one moment when the evil left
Maybe tomorrow night he will not need a drink
and maybe the shadows will finally catch the paper.
But that will be another night.
Poetry by Rob Taylor
Read 774 times
Written on 2006-11-26 at 03:57
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Shadows In The Night
I lay hereMy head resting on soft pillows
My body aches from the stress of the day
My stomach aches from the burritos
I ate a half a day ago.
My mind wanders
Thinking of the interview I have at noon
I worry about the last of the fruit loops
Will they be there in the morning?
Or will that child sneak through the night and devour them?
That thought fills my mind and my heart
My eyes look for the relief of seeing the child's door still closed
Instead, I see images hiding in the shadows thrown by the street
lights shining through rips in a curtain I should
have replaced years ago.
The golden light becomes things, evil things
The things my mother told me about when I was bad.
The candy wrapper from the bar I ate last
flies from space on the floor I reserved for it.
As it flies the eyes of evil seem to follow
Watching every move it makes
I watch as they move around the room
They touch everything
They look at everything
They watch that crummy piece of paper.
Just as they find the paper hiding in the toe of my slipper
I hear that scream that comes every night.
I dread hearing it but I welcome the sounds
'Daddy, can I have a glass of water."
I clap my hands to turn on the light next to my head
and all of the evil disappears.
I smile, hug my son and give him the glass of water
I am grateful for that one moment when the evil left
Maybe tomorrow night he will not need a drink
and maybe the shadows will finally catch the paper.
But that will be another night.
Poetry by Rob Taylor
Read 774 times
Written on 2006-11-26 at 03:57
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
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Teala |
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Kathy Lockhart |
