I’m awakened by the thuds of strange creatures,

Small enough to have the quiet grace of a ballerina

Yet heavy footed like ogres on a rampage,

Looking for their next meal.


Luck may bring me back to dreams,

But then the banshee-like screams yank me out of my slumber again.


Sometimes I miss

That natural, soft tug of awareness

That used to bring me to the surface.

Or when the sun peeked in

Through my window

Slowly nudging me awake.


But now I am just the “basement troll,”

Yelling for quiet,

That’s met by laughter.

Google Image


I have to say, this past weekend was a truly marvelous and rare occasion.  All my younger siblings were gone and I could wake up on my own terms. 

No stomping up and down the stairs.  No yelling and screaming over toys and games and who got to watch what on TV.  No one knocking on my door, like they’re the police or something, to tell on each other.

Just peace & quiet…


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