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Non PD poem
Sounds. Deceiving are the sounds at night. Some make a child quiver with fright. Moonlit shadows on the bedroom wall, Dancing, weaving, awesome and tall. Cower deep under my pillow, bated breath, Is it coming this thing called death? The night call of the lonesome owl, Nocturnal animals on secret prowl. Noises some near some far away, Long weary hours until the break of day. Creaking stairs the slow drip of a tap, With me in my bed this is surely a trap. My eyes are heavy sleep conquers at last, Meaningless dreams as daylight comes fast. Other sounds now come to my ears, Familiar sounds where there are no fears. © Bernard Shaw bernard.shaw@xxxxxxxxx
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