'Neath the Bed

'Twas late at night, the house was still,
The moon splashed 'pon my windowsill.
I tried to sleep, to no avail.
A distant wind began to wail.
I closed my eyes, squeezed them tight,
I tried to block the pale moonlight.
Nothing worked, not counting sheep,
Not breathing slow . . . I could not sleep.
I laid across my stubborn bed,
I traded places, feet and head.
Though tired I was, I could not sleep,
Wakefulness my mind did keep.
When suddenly, without preamble,
I heard a noise, I heard a scramble.
What filled me with the deepest dread,
The noise did come from 'neath my bed.
Tales of youth came flashing fore,
Tales of monsters, from ancient lore.
"Do not tarry, when sleeps your choice,
For monsters come," said mother's voice.
"They wait to catch the restless soul,
And carry off a sleepless foal."
A tremble came from deep inside,
I clamped my mouth or I'd have cried.
I did not wish a claw to feel,
Nor would I be a monster's meal.
"The only cure," my mother said,
"To stop the monster 'neath the bed,
Is fast asleep you quick must fall,
And listen for the dream mare's call."
So 'neath my covers I did crawl,
And prayed for sleep and dreams and all.
When next I peered upon my room,
Gone were shadows, dark and gloom.
For morn had come to cast them all,
From crooked corners and bedroom wall.
Gone as well the sense of dread,
And most of all, as I lift my head,
Gone was the monster 'neath my bed.