Mother's in the next room.
The walls are paper thin.
Just shout for her,
and she will sprint right to your side.
She'll pull you into her arms.
She'll keep you safe with her warm embrace.
There's nothing to be afraid of.
You are not alone.
But how can I be so sure it's not the monster in my closet?
Darkness is all these eyes have ever seen.
YOU ARE READING
In the Wee Small Hours
PoetryLittle thoughts in prose, song and poetry. (Previously titled 'Raconteur') Copyright © 2018 by @janeoswyn. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photoc...
