Golden Nights

I find that when I am tired
and stare upon the ceiling at night,
my mind is like static - my eyes will not close,
like staring down from some great height.

I’ll toss and I’ll turn,
press my face into my pillow -
and use the bed sheets as coverage so
that the monsters cannot follow.

Straighten the sides and
make a pocket full of air,
scrunch my legs upwards
and hide within dog hair.

Cocoon myself in warmth
using a blanket of golden red,
a movement of limbs and a cold nose
pressed aside my head.

They say that safety is in numbers,
and that humans should stick together.

But all I need is golden fur
to continue to sleep forever.