Wednesday, March 05, 2008

When the Clock Strikes Eight

When the clock strikes eight,
the lights flicker off
and the doors close
and I am in the dark abduction of my room,
sinking into my bed.
I feel small like a dust speck whooshing past my nose.
Every night I want to escape the dim deep room,
but no.
Here I sit
dreadful in the dark. 
Age 9


Deanna said...

Please tell Evander I am completely impressed by his poetry.

(His mom did well telling about the contest, too.)

travelin' nan said...

i was not intending to win,van