Sometimes the nightmares are real . . .

A Winter Heart

In the madness of the dark, a child speaks without a voice.
So weak . . . so small, desperate to break free,
from the shadows from which one cannot escape.
Numbness permeates the limbs of free will.
Fear of horrid creatures, dark and malformed,
visions from some old folk lore, not of the fairy kind.

A snap! A creak! Fear the worst!
Cringing and crawling, back pushed to the wall.
All light dies . . . it's cold within.
Torture! It's coming! Eyes shut tight.
A broken, saddened heart pounds wildly.
Can no one save the hapless child now?

Long before the rays of innocent life should fall,
in the place where devilish nightmares dwell,
dark shadows take shape, becoming a species of their own.
Gnawing teeth and sharpened deadly claws,
bringing forth screams, from the bowers of hell itself.
Childlike bravery rises, only to falter, cowering before the red encrusted eyes.

A winter heart, now broken and bereft, tightly closes in,
fortifying itself so well, that even the spring warming dare not enter the void.
A cold sweat slowly soaks through into the soul.
The darkness surrenders, becoming the dawn of another life.
A trembling body shivers, awakening into adulthood once again.
It has been the prologue of a legacy, from the realm of an obscure nightmare.

Shay White
Copyright 2000 All Rights Reserved