He Is Still Watching
I toss. I turn.
Winking Sleep
impervious to bags
crying out for closure.
"It`s far too crowded
in that bed!" she says.
A presence stirs.
The presence stares.
Watching...
Waiting...
Watching.
Waiting.
He goes by many names.
Fear is how I address him
NO!I lie-
I don`t address him at all.
He just watches.
Some nights, I don`t mind him so.
How can I?
His the only Friend I've
Ever known.
He watches over me,
Doesn't he?
Pulls my timid strings
so ventures beyond the edges
of the Continent Conservatism
I will never dream of.
He is a Friend.
Right?
Maybe, one night:
I`ll sever the cords Tradition
lashing a fragile back.
Send Fear packing.
Courage will be
my new bed mate.
Will Sleep finally come to me?
Until then, he will be-
Watching...
Waiting...
Watching.
Waiting.
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