Sweet Dreams
You lay there in your bed,
the echoes of your mother's words
rolling around in your head.
"Sweet dreams," she said,
You can see the light
under the door,
casting shadows
across the floor,
shadows that move
when there's nothing there,
waiting to drag you
into their lair.
You can see the moon
through the gap in the curtains.
You can see that it's full,
and you are, oh, so certain
that, should you look out
you'd see more than you'd like,
all manner of creatures
preparing to strike.
You can see your wardrobe
is slightly ajar,
and from inside
reaches an old, grey claw.
As it opens the door,
you can hear the low moans,
and you know it's just waiting
for your eyes to close.
But your covers are pulled tight
right up to your face,
your armour against the night,
as your heart starts to race.
Your tired eyes dart
all around the room,
and you hope beyond hope
that the sun will rise soon.
You listen to the breathing
of the monsters under the bed,
and you remember your mother's words
"Sweet dreams," she said.