a poem by Christine Anne Shaw, UK

As sleep evades her far too active mind,
she hears the sudden chiming of the clock.
The witching hour has come to taunt and haunt
exposing doubts and fear which run amok.

Each shadow on the wall takes ghoulish form,
her thoughts race helter-skelter through her head.
She dives beneath the duvet terrified,
her awful screams enough to wake the dead.

An arm escapes to feel a bedside lamp,
her fingers fearful they may come to harm.
She finds the switch and flicks it with relief,
a flash of light and then a sense of calm.

And gone at once the demons of the night,
back to the scary lands which feed her fright.

(a child's perspective)

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