Ethereal shadows playing tricks with the light,
Inanimate objects come to life in the still quiet of the night.
Scary is as scary does, are the thoughts that weave and wind,
In never ending circles in the recess of my mind.
The light fades ever further, and over in the corner,
A shadow moves – I’m sure it did – and a voice says “You should warn her”
“Warn me? Why?” I think out loud, as the rising ebony mass,
Unfolds itself from the shadows and preens in the looking-glass.
I hold my breath, my mouth goes dry; perhaps too scared to swallow,
And in my midnight fancy I hear a voice so deep and hollow.
“We are what we sow. What ye sow, so shall ye reap”
I turn my face to the pillow to hide the tears I silently weep.
The candle on the window-sill gutters; on the wall, shadows leap and dance
Like paper dolls in grotesque arabesques, as I pray for an end to this trance.
A breeze alights from the shutter, the candle flickers once more and then dies,
And I am plunged into darkness to await my fate, to come before the sunrise.
Seconds pass like minutes, the minutes tick by like hours,
I close my eyes and imagine a field filled with infinite flowers.
I pick one and inhale its perfume, as a voice says “The cockerel! He crows!”
And I open my eyes to the blessed sunrise, as the light through my window it flows.
The light emboldens my spirit; I raise myself from the bed,
To face the terrible ebony mass that had inflicted such fear and dread.
In spite of myself I cannot help but smile; a laugh takes the place of fright,
For there is naught to see but discarded clothes, and things that go bump in the night.
Copyright © 2019 Whispers Amongst The Corn