In The Dark

[The Nightmare - Henry Fuseli]

Everywhere is a place darkness changes. Midnight’s dark hides more than we dare see. Outside there are ghosts speaking in whispers, trees alter shape and grow bony fingers. The ground becomes a slow undulating sea with waves to grab and drag you down to drown, while something growls as innocence dies screaming.

Around here, the clocks sneer, with slow heavy ticks. Furniture stalks us, strange sharp-clawed creatures scuttle through pipes, and - under floorboards - hobgoblins clutch at your ankles.

A bed is a warm safe refuge for us. Protected by the power of these thin sheets we sleep safe, wrapped tight around each other in a way no fear could ever untangle.

Then this becomes the time of dawning day, when grey light reveals the benign monsters crowded cowering under the dead weight of our discarded clothes draped over chairs and half-open wardrobe doors lead nowhere except to the dull routine of ordinary lives and the clothing for just another ordinary day.