29. Waking

I opened my eyes and saw the sun,

Streaming through my window,

And I looked around dazedly

At things I’d seen an age ago

 

I was in my own room, in my own bed;

I had been dreaming of horrid things,

Becoming trapped in nightmarish scenes,

And felt the shadows the nighttime brings

 

But, oh, now I was awake!

And the little pocket-watch ticked,

Sitting on my bedside table,

And, quietly, it clicked

 

But what if I go to sleep again?

Will my past haunt me every night?

I don’t want to close my eyes…

I can’t go back to black and white…

The End

75 comments about this poem Feed