Darling one, lock the window,
Darling one, lock the door.

The lives we tell ourselves,
are folded bits of paper mache,
multi colored lullabies,
Strange alien colors and grass at sunset.

The moment when our mothers call us home and the crickets sing when we hope we get the sleep before threadless darkness comes to terror and torment our innocent hearts,

with monsters who are not the kind that live in the far dark-but the kind that live in the desolate house 304.

Darling one, lock the window,
Darling one, lock the door.

It is then we learn to guard the lives we tell ourselves we will have,
and the lives we can afford.

Darling one, lock the window,
Darling one, lock the door.

(C) DM 2017