When I was a child, I’d stare at the wall
At the repetitive pattern and deeper in the covers – I’d crawl
For the print on the paper far from giving comfort at night
Would build up in me the greatest for fright
For the wallpaper pattern which I did see
Soon became faces staring back at me
In the daylight, mere golden fleur de lis
At night, were monsters intent on me to feed
Padre
Padre's Ramblings 