Two Bits

Once a night the bright moon peaks

It reaches its height as it finds the cracks in the blinds

Silhouetting the shadows as they lurk

Stretching across the room in attempts to bind

All alone in the midnight hour

Dreading the beasts of sight unknown

The taste in my mouth always sour

A tendril of inky black from a prince destined for a throne

It follows the curve, the bend and the height

Reaching up the sheet

Almost reaching every night before the sun reaches in bright

Fending off the threat, without a peep