Who's that in the shadow
by the door,
A boy, a man, struck
rigid against the wall.
I turn over in my bed
and cover up my head,
Why does my imagination want me dead, dead
Who's that creeping closer to my bed,
Something's tip-tapping on the floor,
I don't like this game anymore.
Who's that breathing on my neck,
Who's that heaving in and out,
A look, a shout, a clout, I'm out.
Nothing's in the shadow anymore, more.
Comments
DavidK | March 9, 2008 - 10:01
Nice atmospheric piece.
LawOfTheOne | March 9, 2008 - 15:23
Thanks for the comment.
hellen | April 27, 2008 - 21:48
Really like this piece. Has a childlike rhyming quality to it. Really conjures up memories of bed time.
LawOfTheOne | August 13, 2008 - 01:02
Thanks for the comment hellen, sorry for the lateness of my reply. Yeah, I took all of my ideas from this from bedtime as a small child, alone, quite and in the dark. Why did my parents do that to me? :)