Nina Brav

Writer, Blogger, Entrepreneur

Silly or Young

How silly I was then,

Or maybe too young

To see that the darkness on the wall

Was just myself,

Reflected.

 

The wooden night-light

That carved the image of a withered tree

Standing, still in moonlight--

That's what made it bigger.

 

That's why I was afraid.

 

So I cowered under my covers,

Silly to think my blanket

Could shield me from my monster

Too young to know

That I'd never really

Escape it.