Children On The Moon Poem by Gillian Commerford

When I was young
there were marvels and wonders
a nest of children
lived in the crescent moon.
The oddest and most frightful shapes
appeared next to my bed at night
making me tremble with agony and alarm.
Uknown footsteps sounded on the stairs.
My woes began early
and grew worse as I grew older.
When I had grown old enough
to know these things could not be so
I still could not accustom myself-
unable to resist their pull
I could not let them go.
What had begun early only grew worse
and stays with me still.
The wish has grown upon me
with the passing years-
that I might fly away
to those children in the moon
to nest with them there.
I curl up in my bed at night
and hope to disappear.