deepundergroundpoetry.com
Night Terrors
Quiet house.
Dark outside.
Lights are dimmed-- (Speak in hushed tones).
Curled up inside of his soft blanket.
Dreaming of colors, shapes and other curious things.
Lays my son, sleeping, breathing gently and sweetly dreaming.
In his crib of black cherry wood.
Under the white blanket that cradles him gently.
Among the stuffed animals that watch over him while he's sleeping.
In the other room, relaxing.
My mother, my boyfriend and I.
Not to worry about the baby.
He's asleep.
He's warm.
Covered up and fine.
And then the little matress creaks.
And his cries fill the house.
No crying because he's discourage.
Or because he woke up.
But because he was scared.
Something scared him in his mind.
Nightmares that babies shouldn't have.
Especially not mine.
So I abandon my story, the characters fade away and I pull my son into me.
Hoping my arms can make the nightmares go away.
But he cries and he refuses to look at me.
Everything we do sends him crying again.
And if we try to lay him down and get him to go back to sleep.
He fuses, he cries, he doesn't want to go there.
Sleep is the last place he wants to be.
I hold him against me.
And play little games with my hands.
And slowly, and after an hour or so, my little boy smiles again.
And I can wipe he red cheeks of the tears he has shead.
And I can hold him against me, ensuring him-- The bad things were all in his head.
That: "Mommy is here, Daddy and Grandma Too.
And we'll never let anything happen to you."
I wipe the tears away.
And brush away the fears.
I hold my son against my chest and listen to his breathing relax.
Watching him suck his fingers and start to get some rest.
It's early in the morning.
It took all night but it was for the best.
I'll sleep tomorrow, fight through whatever sickness I wake up with in the morning.
All I know is that my baby was scared and he is clinging to me shirt.
Now asleep, as we are both wrapped in our blankets.
Just him and I, and once again it's been so long but together, we're one being again.
Him listening to the sound of beating heart to lull him back to sleep.
I kiss his head, sweet blonde hair covering it.
His pretty hazel eyes of his Daddy's brown and my Grand-dad's blue close.
I watch his breathing become even and I know for a fact the nightmares are gone, and my son has returned to sleeping.
Quiet house.
Dark outside.
Lights are dimmed-- (Speak in hushed tones).
Curled up inside of his soft blanket.
Dreaming of colors, shapes and other curious things.
Lays my son, sleeping, breathing gently and sweetly dreaming.
In his crib of black cherry wood.
Under the white blanket that cradles him gently.
Among the stuffed animals that watch over him while he's sleeping.
Dark outside.
Lights are dimmed-- (Speak in hushed tones).
Curled up inside of his soft blanket.
Dreaming of colors, shapes and other curious things.
Lays my son, sleeping, breathing gently and sweetly dreaming.
In his crib of black cherry wood.
Under the white blanket that cradles him gently.
Among the stuffed animals that watch over him while he's sleeping.
In the other room, relaxing.
My mother, my boyfriend and I.
Not to worry about the baby.
He's asleep.
He's warm.
Covered up and fine.
And then the little matress creaks.
And his cries fill the house.
No crying because he's discourage.
Or because he woke up.
But because he was scared.
Something scared him in his mind.
Nightmares that babies shouldn't have.
Especially not mine.
So I abandon my story, the characters fade away and I pull my son into me.
Hoping my arms can make the nightmares go away.
But he cries and he refuses to look at me.
Everything we do sends him crying again.
And if we try to lay him down and get him to go back to sleep.
He fuses, he cries, he doesn't want to go there.
Sleep is the last place he wants to be.
I hold him against me.
And play little games with my hands.
And slowly, and after an hour or so, my little boy smiles again.
And I can wipe he red cheeks of the tears he has shead.
And I can hold him against me, ensuring him-- The bad things were all in his head.
That: "Mommy is here, Daddy and Grandma Too.
And we'll never let anything happen to you."
I wipe the tears away.
And brush away the fears.
I hold my son against my chest and listen to his breathing relax.
Watching him suck his fingers and start to get some rest.
It's early in the morning.
It took all night but it was for the best.
I'll sleep tomorrow, fight through whatever sickness I wake up with in the morning.
All I know is that my baby was scared and he is clinging to me shirt.
Now asleep, as we are both wrapped in our blankets.
Just him and I, and once again it's been so long but together, we're one being again.
Him listening to the sound of beating heart to lull him back to sleep.
I kiss his head, sweet blonde hair covering it.
His pretty hazel eyes of his Daddy's brown and my Grand-dad's blue close.
I watch his breathing become even and I know for a fact the nightmares are gone, and my son has returned to sleeping.
Quiet house.
Dark outside.
Lights are dimmed-- (Speak in hushed tones).
Curled up inside of his soft blanket.
Dreaming of colors, shapes and other curious things.
Lays my son, sleeping, breathing gently and sweetly dreaming.
In his crib of black cherry wood.
Under the white blanket that cradles him gently.
Among the stuffed animals that watch over him while he's sleeping.
Published 7th Mar 2014
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
likes 4
reading list entries 1
comments 4
reads 839
Commenting Preference:
The author encourages honest critique.
7th Mar 2014 11:15pm
8th Mar 2014 7:30pm
Thank you, it was something that happened a few nights ago to my son and I've been paranoid ever since. So I decided to channel it through writing, and wrote down the experience. Thanks for reading and I'm glad you enjoyed it.
- Paige Rider
- Paige Rider
8th Mar 2014 11:27pm
When babies cry, really cry, a mother will move the earth to make it better. This is so sweet and poignant.
8th Mar 2014 11:33pm
That's very true and thank you. I'm glad you enjoyed it and glad you read it also.
- Paige Rider
- Paige Rider
