Sunday, July 26, 2015
“Beware of the man in the moon,” Mother said.
“He’ll visit your dreams while you’re snug in your bed.
He knows what you’re doing by day or by night.
The sun may be up, but you’re still in his sight!!”
She said it enough times I thought it was true.
I’d look out each evening to see what he knew.
He glared in my window; on most days I thought
I’d done something wrong even when I had not!
It got to the point where I hardly could sleep.
I tried to ignore him, but failed counting sheep.
I asked for some curtains to black out his stare,
But Mother said children my age needed air.
I looked in the other direction instead,
But still felt his eyes on the back of my head.
And even when sleep would at last come my way,
The man in the moon often made me his prey.
He’d come down to earth like a big glowing ball
Then roll close behind me and cause me to fall.
I feared I’d be flattened; my bones would all break.
My mother just stood there. No move did she make.
I always woke up with me covered in sweat.
The dread of those nightmares I’ll never forget!
My teachers concerned, though in only first grade,
My mother confessed to the story she’d made:
“The man in the moon isn’t real at all son.
I just made him up so your chores would be done.
And then when it worked it was tough to let go.
You’d followed the rules for these last weeks or so.
“I never intended to make you so scared
And guess I have damaged the trust we once shared.
I’ll try to rebuild it from this moment on;
My days of deception, my dear son, are gone.”
As far as I knew she was true to her word.
And now I’m a dad the temptation’s occurred,
But when flash the nightmares remembered so well.
The man in the moon is no story I'll tell.