It was a dark and stormy night…

Storms don’t bother him any more.
The rumble and tumble of distant thunder
brings a modest smile to his face,
and one could guess, from his inward look, the peculiar comfort it brings.

In his mind is the fleece of the cottony quilt in his childhood bed.
Dirty grey and dark inside,
but soft and safe.
Safe with his own private sun.

Muting giants’ voices
perhaps until the morning.

Always there to hide his fearful tears.

One Comment

Leave a Reply to gizzylaw Cancel reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s