Draft in the author’s style. This poem was written for Poet of Chilling Shivers to sit beside the author’s own readings, and is waiting for the author’s review. The commentary is a working draft too.
Every child knows what waits beneath the bed when the lamplight fades,
But the grown-ups never check beneath, and they never lift the shades.
I am grown up now, and braver, and I've stopped believing that,
But last night, from below my mattress, there came a soft, slow pat.
It was tapping on the floorboards, and it tapped in twos and threes,
Like fingers drumming patiently, and asking if you please.
I lowered my torch to the carpet, and I bent and looked beneath,
And saw a pair of eyes so wide, and a smile of tiny teeth.
It whispered, I am tired of waiting for you to look, my dear,
For I have been beneath your bed for twenty-five long years.
It said, I never wished you harm, I only kept you warm,
I am the thing that guarded you from every childhood storm.
So now I leave the lamp on low, and I whisper to the floor,
Goodnight, old friend, and thank you, for I do not fear you more.
Poet of Chilling Shivers · Hear it on the channel ↗
Commentary
This poem begins as a childhood fear and ends as a small surprise. The monster under the bed turns out to be the thing that watched over the sleeper all along.
Everyone knows “what waits beneath the bed when the lamplight fades.” The speaker is grown up and has “stopped believing that,” but “last night, from below my mattress, there came a soft, slow pat.” Looking beneath with a torch, the speaker sees “a pair of eyes so wide, and a smile of tiny teeth.”
The creature whispers that it has been “beneath your bed for twenty-five long years.” It says, “I never wished you harm, I only kept you warm.” The speaker now leaves “the lamp on low” and says, “Goodnight, old friend.”