A childs mind

Hold my hand as i walk deep in the night, 

you are my rock that i cling too.

Leaves sticking together and blocking the light, 

of the moon that is trying to break through.

A sound close by startles us both, 

together we joke it's a killer.

Somehow the night hinders our growth, 

and like children we think of The Thriller.

Footsteps behind signal a worry, 

one that we both don't want to admit.

But we are scared and we dare not tarry, 

the question we ask is "Who is it?"

Reaching the end of the forest lane, 

as safety beckons us forth.

In our minds we imagine the pain, 

and like a compass we head direct North.

Scarlet in colour would be our death, 

if the person behind catches us.

We're safe on the road as we see a light, 

and signal to catch the last bus.

It pulls up to the curb and we get a seat, 

and look outside of the foggy window.

The person that scared us is dead on their feet, 

and they are holding a pillow.

They get on the bus and give us a look, 

if looks could kill then we would be dead.

It's my mum with my stuff for camp, 

and she wonders what goes on in my head.