With the Birds and Mighty Dragons
I used to be very lonely,
and always afraid of the dark.
I used to have bad night terrors,
of frightful monsters lurking near.
Their breath held the stench of my fear.
As a child, I always fed them,
while cowering under the sheets.
That is when I learned to escape.
At night, while lying in my bed,
I would lift off, crash through ceiling,
after ceiling, after ceiling,
through to the top of the building,
until I was held high above
by stray gusts; watched by blinking stars.
I would find solace in the breeze,
so high no creature could reach me
but the birds and mighty dragons.
The din from the streets below would
sing their ghetto lullaby, and
the moon would gently tuck me in.
And then, as I drift off to sleep,
the bed would slowly descend; down
through the top of the building, down
through ceiling after ceiling, and
finally back into my room.
The fear of night ignored… for now.
