Again the demons called last night
To plunge me into depths of fright
I reach for spray and balm-filled spoon
Their benefit ripped away too soon.
And all the agonies of my life
Roll before my eyes as strife
Until a wreck, I finally sleep
She who loves me will quietly weep.
As there beside me yet again
She helps to fight what is no friend
And when I wake she soothes my brow
To bring me back to here and now.
Yet pain is etched on her sweet face
I’m once more smitten by her grace.

©Joe Wilson – The night visitors…2016