Bedtime

Bedtime

A careful journey through the house

Starts with the regular routine

The easy things at end of day

Of switchings-off, and shuttings-down

Of locks and bolts and doors

And the silences that quickly fall

Within the lounge and in the kitchen 

Then heading for the staircase

And the reluctant nightly climb

Towards the empty, darkened corridor

That harbours brooding shadows

And perhaps conceals an unseen something

Now trying to hold back a creeping fear

And the mounting tension

Engendered by an empty house

And too many nights of loneliness 

Fumbling round the corner of the wall

With a trembling, groping hand

Seeking out the elusive switch

That will illuminate the feeble bulb

And banish darkness

From the space along the landing

And the hurried steps

Echoing against the plaster walls

Towards the master bedroom

Past the other door, her door

The one that never opens now

And diving quickly into the empty bed

To banish this unwanted fear

This irrational paranoia

And to try to fall sleep

Yet again alone

 

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2012