I read poetry in the dark, scared of the monsters under
my bed. My nightlight has been turned on, and I am
armed and ready for any noise, or suspicious activity.
The nightlight shows shadows in the darkness,
a circle of light flights my wall.
The light helps me with three things: helps me read my poetry,
and keeps the shadows away, and the monsters stay
underneath the bed.
Stars twinkle in the sky outside my window.
A tree claws at the glass. Tomorrow is another day.
School, and then gardening. I wake up at the sound of my
alarm, and suddenly, the shadows disappear.
They're under my willow trees.
I go downstairs to eat breakfast,
a breakfast of champions-toast, cereal, orange juice.
Then I go outside to see the bus squealing away from the curb,
and I miss my ride to school. I go back inside,
and tell Mama I missed the bus. "Don't be angry,"
I say in a pleading voice. "Please."
And with a flourish, we are out the door, and I am
the last one to arrive-but, still, I make it,
and that's one good thing about the day.