Whimsical Fears
By John Herlihy

Is there a person alive today
Who has not suffered from the whims of fear?
Ask any child in the vicinity
Who will tell you of whimsical fears they hold most dear.
Wolves with yellow glass eyes staring from behind trees;
Sinuous caves you must crawl through on your knees;
Water dripping from frozen boughs that whisper in sighs;
A silvery moon shining faint light amid nocturnal cries;
Shadows on the wall at night creeping toward the throat;
Dreaded phantoms on panting horses breaching the castle moat.
Little girls clutch their rag dolls trying to stem their fear;
They look about wildly, their faces stained by a petrified tear.

Driving through dark tunnels, plying roaring arctic seas,
Even adults live in dread of fear filtering thru the breeze.
Fear of the dark, of monsters, of elevators, of height,
Phantom phobias are as real as anything visible in sight.
Who can account for such a dire reversal of fortune,
That creeps into the heart to send us fearing in a swoon?
Beware of chance encounters of strangers on a fast train;
They may grow a long tail and a pair of horns looking insane.
Remember the wolves get scared with the coming of the light;
They run for the hills, panting winter breath with all their might.
Fear is more like frosted cupcakes the size of a grand piano.
When you bite into them, you will find they are made of snow.

Alas, fears have a way of dissipating, just as much as they grow;
I lay down without a care and tuck my sleepy head into the pillow.