Posted in Minute Poetry

Night Crawlers

Asleep, I hear the ghostly screams
in what it seems
are scolding tones
to chill my bones.

Although I try to turn away,
I have to stay
as visions spew
their hateful brew.

But in the fading dark of night
I touch the light
and stow my fear
with useless gear.

© Susan Schoeffield

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