by Anne Elizabeth Connors
Within the eyes of one small child
the world could change inside a darkened room.
Imagined terrors manifest
where coiled and slithering Vipers lurk
in the serpentine stems
of Jacobean patterned wallpaper.
Keepers of Gothic parapets by day
winged Griffins crouched.
Sentinels on grey stone ledges,
guardians of the village church.
Motionless they perched ‘til dark then,
silent as a feather falls,
spread their wings, returned to roost
in the cavernous lair
beneath the bed.
Sharp taloned, eyes coal black, dragons of menace
silently waited only for opportunity.
Penalty for coverlets pulled too high
a child’s socked foot exposed,
sure to tempt the pounce of demons
it is hastily retrieved
into the sanctuary of pink counterpanes.
Nine O’ Clock horses, nightmares of children,
bearing with them all conceivable fears.
“And if I die before I wake.”
A child’s prayer of whispered words
begs protection from the harm at hand.
In exhaustion, from the dread contrived,
mercifully came the unconscious haven of sleep.
Reprieved, at last, when tear wet lashes fell on rosened cheeks.
The night time terrors of childhood
in the shadowed presence
of the Sandman.
(Anne Elizabeth Connors was born and educated in England . Presently resides in Colorado. Writes novels, short stories, prose etc.)