A poem I wrote with my little girl, then about six, when she thought she was afraid of the dark.
Lights, lights, oh my, oh my
“My light burned out,” to Mom, I cry.
My Mom walks in to my dark room,
And says, “Hold on, I’ll be back real soon.”
She brings a bulb and plugs it in
I say, “Oh joy, I can read again.”
But Mom looks down and says, “You’re right.
It’s past your bedtime, turn out the light!”
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