Sleepless nights ‘cuz the boogeyman’s gonna get you.
Rapid breathing, nausea, chills down the spine.
Children taken while walking home from bus stops.
Strangers offering candy to preschoolers
out playing in the yard alone.
Where have all the adults gone?
I am here. Is it enough to keep her safe from predator-hands –
picking them like flowers from garden beds as they bathe in the sun
oblivious to weeds wrapping around their fragile stems?
Dooms day is coming, and ready are the evil ones
driving around in red trucks and blue sedans;
wearing baseball caps and long gray hair, at least in my neighborhood
where invisible bars have appeared on our windows
and her bike now sits in the garage gathering dust.
Characters in line, yet s c A t t e R e d,
donning new costumes and knocking on doors
while I stand at the curb,
peeking between fingers and trembling;
watching them reach for treats, not knowing
if the front porch light is on or off.
“I didn’t make it,” she cried. My breath lodged
in my throat, knowing that this is real life (BOO!)
and she must feel it for all it is
because the alternative is worse –
high or low, smoked or sniffed,
emotional shut-down; silent behind
thick circles of black eyeliner.
They tell me not to quit five minutes before
the miracle happens and so, I tell her,
and she doesn’t.
And neither does he, as we see him
every night now, and at weekend games.
The trick: God’s perfect timing.
So grateful for blessings received this week. My daughter made a select volleyball team and hubby got a new position at work that cuts out his night and weekend hours. Thanks to Eric for the photo prompt.
Two little dogs
who thought they were frogs
leaped around the yard.
Up in the air
with nary a care
they leaped and they leaped so hard.
The neighborhood cat
she smirked as she sat
watching such a sight.
Then they spotted her
but she merely purred
“No, no. Frogs do not bite.”
Writing children’s verse for dverse poets.