The Early Morning Poem by Tara Smith

The early morning, with its dark sky
The quiet streets, the closed eyes
The little girl, in a gentle sleep
The familiar face, inside he peeps
The smallest noise, she wakes to hear
The shadow over her, that smells of beer
The overwhelming confusion that muddles her head
The growing fear, as he climbs on her bed
The terror and shock, her pounding heart
The wide eyes, as the nightmare starts
The evil smirk, the silent tears
The betrayed trust, the mountainous fear
The done deed, the hurt girl
The worst night, it changed her world...

22nd of September 2009