211 – The Bedbugs Never Bite

Poem number 211
The Bedbugs Never Bite
Where are all the monsters now that I am 43
And bedtime is a pleasure after one last cup of tea?
Where’s the trepidation and the fear of what’s ahead
And the terror of the eyeballs rolling round beneath the bed
I’m the one that did the hoovering, the one who locked the doors
And I know the house is empty, with no need to fear the floors
I can lie there in the silence, I can savour dead of night
Never fearing for my safety, never feeling any fright
I’m an adult, I’m a grown up, I’m too old for nameless dread
I’m too old for silly nightmares, I’ll have dreamless sleep instead
But although that’s right and proper and the way that it should be
Perhaps there’s something missing, something magic, something free
And perhaps that bit of terror at the creaking of the floor
Was a boon and not a penance, some excitement, nothing more
And the adults, all complacent, not afraid to douse the light
Are the ones who should be frightened, for the balance isn’t right –
There seems little point in living once the monster’s disappeared
Where’s the magic, or the wonder now the dark is never feared?


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