Shadows make shapes on the wall.
Shadows grow dark on the door.
The shadows spread slowly, they shift and expand,
like wings, they unfold on the floor.
I’m trying to sleep, but how can I?
I crane my neck to see them until it’s sore.
The ocean of inky-black shadows
is spreading out on the rug on my floor.
I try to count sheep, but it’s useless.
I give up at a hundred and four.
My bed is just one tiny island
in the shadowy sea of the floor.
I stare out the window and tremble.
Oh, how many minutes more?
Before morning arrives with the sunlight
to chase the shadows away from the floor?