Wild Things

As I lie in bed, prolonging the inevitable,

I hear the sounds of the wild things.

Running and stomping,

never ending,

I close my mind to the sounds, roll over,

trying to catch a dream.

Then the trilling sounds of screaming,

vibrate through my bones.

The quest of sleep gone now,

I force myself to open my eyes,

The sounds of the dream still running,

When I notice my kids screaming and yelling.

The trilling sounds I thought were a dream,

Just my children, being wildly free.


Daily Post – Trill


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