When Willow branches scratch the pane
and the night wind howls on by,
snuggled deep in clouds of sheets
her dreams will drift on high.
Next to her bed, upon his rug,
he'll lay his shaggy head,
and thump his tail in the night
to chase away the dread.
The clock ticks loudly in the hall.
Boards, aged and weathered creak,
and branches bump upon the wall
when little Goblins peak.
He'll raise his head up off the floor,
his voice will rumble low,
then he thumps his tail in the night
to let the pranksters know.
They yearn for night time mischief,
as his little angel sleeps,
but he's ever watchful on the job
when the nasty Gremlins creep.
Silently her guardian lays,
in watchful, vigilant peace
then thumps his tail in the night
to make Gremlin's mischief cease.
The night is growing older,
the waxing moon rides high,
the corners deep, are darker still
where awful Ghosts do lie.
Their black forms step from the shadows
he sees them on the sly,
and thumps his tail in the night,
now, no Ghost will lurk nearby.
Moonbeams tangle with shadows deep
upon a bedroom wall
and spin a web to catch her dreams
as the stars of nighttime fall.
Her ever trusty guardian,
awaits her beck and call
a gentle soul with big brown eyes,
Wham! his tail hits the wall.
© 2000 Calista Cates-Stanturf
All Rights Reserved