You fight off the nightmares so I may hibernate in whimsy. The shadows under my bed and creaking floorboards cower. You bear no steel, just brown curls, a scuffed nose and crooked eyes; an orange thread that connects your snout, that I still kiss goodnight. A small rope coils around your neck, that I once thought kept it in place. Brown string defines your paws, I hold gently in my cradle. No claws, no fangs, just love and hope. You are the silent protector. The defender of the dreamy. The king of the forest.
About the Creator
Mya Doerksen
Hi there, I'm a student, a writer and an aspring author. At the moment I'll mostly be posting shorts, school assignments or challenge submissions.
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Morning Drives with Dad
The murky sky expands on the journey to school. The sun yawns, the radio a whisper. Decrepit bowls of morning porridge click in the backseat. I’m staring out the window, watching as we roll by dreary clouds, sleeping trees, bronze fields of elk, and the butte in its dry spectacle. Between the quaint Marysville streets, I notice the vacancy of the stag. We sigh in serenity to the sounds of Spa. Fingers fiddle with leather folders and pick skin in detested rhythm. The guilty silence from our estranged connection, only broken when he coughs “What’re you thinking about?”
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