monsters under beds

often steal socks

but sometimes not

they really want dreams

that slip out of ears at midnight

and drift down like faint shadows

they gather fears

in hands that whisper

stitching them

into blankets of quiet

unfolding old sadnesses

into pale cold light

the small sorrows

left under pillows

or words we forgot to say

dust settling in darkness

they come

for fragments

they take them all

those warm pieces

leaving only aches

as day dawns