Mom's Stories of the Night
I remember when I was a young boy…if I was scared
or if I was asleep and woke up with a fright…
my mom would snuggle in bed next to me and tell me stories of the night.
“There’s nothing to be afraid of.” She’d say in her soft and soothing tone.
“For the night is full of wonders…full of miracles all her own.”
“You can see it in the stars and in the flash of the fireflies…
unmistakable proof that the night has a twinkle in her eyes.”
“There is nothing quite as beautiful as the world lit only by the moon.
It’s the only time you get to visit with the owl and the raccoon.”
“It’s the time you hear the nightingale sing her sweet and mellow song.
And as the only bird who sings at night she’s happy when you sing along.”
“While you’re harmonizing with the nightingale…if you’re lucky…you must might….
catch a glimpse of the evening primrose…which only blooms at night.”
I’m sure Mom kept telling more stories…
her voice was always comforting and deep…
but by the time she got to the primrose…I was usually fast asleep.
Mom’s stories helped me as a young boy…conquer my nighttime fears
and, today, I reveal a secret…I’ve kept for all these years:
Even after I was no longer scared of the dark…
(yes, I know it wasn’t right)
I’d pretend to be afraid
just so I could hear
Mom’s stories of the night.
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