Monster In the Night
As I slowly climbed the stairs to bed
discrepant thoughts surge in my head.
For it would not be long before
my bedroom door
would slowly open
As it usually did;
an omen
of what would come.
Hot draughts of rancid breathing,
upon my neck;
which always reeked of beer,
or sometimes stale Darjeeling.
Then, subsequently sated;
It would slowly whisper in my ear;
"Unless you want
I see your little brother too,
Don't you go and tell your mother,
dear."
Copyright © Terry Miller | Year Posted 2021
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