Silent winter morning,
foggy Christmas cold,
crows cawing at the window,
addressing demons old;

From across the mist and fog,
light does crack her way,
through my maroon shaded curtains,
that turn her black and grey;

And she creeps in,
caressing my neck-my cheek,
crawling up my face,
as she pries my eyes open, and pulls me out of sleep;

White as snow,
back rainbow light,
scaring away the goblins,
that reign in the shadowless night;

And there are no more monsters,
who play under my bed,
the real monster at sunrise,
is me inside my head.

By: Viraj Belgaonkar