by Brandy Myers

Created on: May 08, 2009

I listen for the sound of the drop from the faucet in the bathroom,

It is late at night and I can't sleep the thought of what might happen at noon.

A battle that seems to have gone on for ages, the custody of one so meek and mild,

How will I maintain the innocence and purity of my little child?

This will not do, the sound has vacated the dwelling I call home,

The thickness that hangs in the air would easily be sliced by a ringing phone.

Yet here I am, worrying the night away, fearing in my heart what I must say,

Knowing that he is kept from speaking the truth; can I get them to sway?

That man reminds me of a knotted tree, aged and ruthless he can be,

The years I have spent away from his poison allows me to see but will I be free?

The clock has ceased in ticking, the fan utters no whirring,

The crevice of my mind it offers no comfort, yet it lures me.

Give in to the night, give up this restless feat,

It is time to give in and finally go to sleep.

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