Christine's nights of '96
kept her mind off
the horror of the
boogeyman, but still kept her awake
Her bed was as soft as a
cloud and her room
cast no shadows.
Nor did any board squeak under her weight
The toys in the corner stared
softly and guarded her
tea party table from
the lesser loved dolls that craved imaginary tea cakes.
Every night just made Christine
restless as plates played
frisbee, whilst Mummy
drank juice and shouted for daddy to 'let go for Christ's sake! It's only one drink more.'
In '97 mummy didn't come round
so much and left Dad
in charge of the days and the nights.
Never did Christine see her Dad drink juice that her Mother drank.
Water did just fine.
Ben Owens
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-nights-that-daddy-cried/
