Lonely Child

Slippered feet, scuffling, take me home

to the twin beds in the room I shared

with my brother, my older brother, Mike,

the eldest son, across a short stretch of carpet

in a bed matching mine, black iron frame

with fresh sheets and a warm blanket, tucked tight.

He was missing, of course, any stuffed and furry friends,

the assortment of creatures who occupied my covers, 

each in his place, his rightful space on my bed,

neatly arranged and settled around me

to keep me safe in the darkness of night,

a moon shining in, my only nightlight,

this lonely child in a shared room ...

slippered feet, scuffling.