The Swords of the Ancients

You’re awake in the middle of the night
A bad dream
Or something akin to one
And from downstairs, I hear you
As you begin to cry
And I respond
It’s my job to keep
You safe, even from the dangers
That aren’t real
(Especially then)
Because you’re still learning
The difference.
And in seconds, I’ve reached
Your door, stepped over
The gate that keeps you
And your little brother from
Roaming the hall at night,
Scooped you up in my arms
And whisked you away
To the light of the
Kitchen.
Soon, you’re calmed by
The promise of a
Cup of milk and
A warm blanket and
Snuggling in my arms
On your favorite couch.
Your smile then is the
Brightest I’ve seen from you in days,
And then I too
Am ready to face the dark again.