Three Minutes
poetic scribble by Bob Axell 2008

 

I see the rays of moonlight they seek me. The seep through the curtains and creep restlessly. Past all the covers and into my sheet. They flow past, then stop, listen to my heartbeat. I can tell that it's here without opening my eye, the moonlight that comes when I en bed lie. I'm overswept with fear and dread, the moonlight has arrived, and I lie in bed. Helpless. It's bright in my room, like a Sunday afternoon, at the Zoo with a dussin Baboons playing farfetched tag with air balloons. Prying crates open in spoons, at the notice of banana fumes, and we eat our meal peacefully until we can this farfetched game resume. But it's not like this right now, right now I lie in bed with my eyes closed tight. And wait for the moon to go down, will I have to stay here, and wait all night? I can't wait for the suns bright glow, to rise through the curtains and chase away the moon from my home. And yet here in bed I lie, with my eyes closed, and my night lamp on, and with dark clouds that cover the sky.