Poetry

The Nightmare

And so the monster woke

A cold sweat down its neck.

A horrible dream

Replaying in its mind.

A perfect angel,

Skin of porcelain

Eyes of blue.

Hair falling in waves

Down the shored curves

of their back.

A creature of kindness,

Perfection in every smile.

Laughter falls from those lips,

An alien sound

To the dreamer.

The monster,

Petrified in fear

Can only stare

At its own scaled,

Ugly hands

And wait

For the dream

To pass.

Stone Soup · Children’s Art Foundation · Since 1973