When I was too scared to sleep without light,
I sat with you for hours,
hoping strangers wouldn’t rob us as we slept
and you’d tell me stories.

I sat with you for hours,
glued to the fibers of the corduroy couch
where you’d start your story
about when milk was delivered in glass bottles.

Glued to the fibers of our corduroy couch,
you and I, together ate cashews from the can
always sipping from our glasses of milk
sometimes adding chocolate as we washed away the salt.

You and I, together, always ate cashews from the can,
and then we’d play hide and seek around the house,
and you’d give me chocolate to wash away the salt from the day
as you tucked me into my pink-rosed bed.

It’s always a game of hide and seek, from
the strangers in our lives who rob us as we sleep
and we tuck ourselves in our pink rose beds
too scared to sleep without light.