“In the Dark,” Friend, Feb. 1998, 18
It seems when Mom turns out the light
And it is time to say good night,
The scary noises all begin.
I pull my blanket to my chin.
The shadows in the maple tree
Decide to pay a call on me.
My harmless toys, the chairs, the drapes,
All seem to change to monster shapes.
Sometimes I call Mom back again.
She flips the night-light on, and then
My room once more is safe and bright.
I know I won’t be scared tonight.