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The Dark of the Night
When I cannot sleep in the dark of night.
When shadows move and crawling scare me.
I reach for those friends of great strength and might,
seeking the comfort they can spare me.
There are so many books upon my shelf.
Some tell, some chill, others they thrill me,
but all will take me away from myself,
and with courage and daring fill me.
How do I choose which noble friends to share
the long dark hours that seek to drain me?
A cover bright, is the foreword a snare?
Will it inspire, or hurt or pain me?
Ignore the cover, read the words within.
The shiny wrapping does not hold me.
I open the book and then soon begin
treading the new world that enfolds me.
Such friends are held ever close to my heart.
Their tall tales repeatedly charm me.
And free from their thrall, I’d not wish to part.
They drive back the void that would harm me
When I cannot sleep, in the dark of night.
When the gloom moves and the black calls me.
I reach for those friends who hold me so tight,
dispelling the silence that walls me.
© Copyright 2009 Alan Philps (UN: anglophile at Writing.Com).
All rights reserved.
Alan Philps has granted Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work.
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