Alistair Frey's "Lights Off" looks back at a childhood bedtime routine. The speaker remembers ordinary things, like watching TV, drawing, and playing outside, but the mood shifts once night comes. Outside is no longer safe, the bed is cold, and the one tiny light left on is something the speaker never looks away from. Once the lights go off, the child sings, thinks "nicely," and hides under the covers, as if these small habits could keep the fear away.
The ending changes everything. Morning seems to wipe the darkness away, but the last line says it "haunts me even from now." The speaker is no longer a child, yet the fear has stayed. The plain, simple language makes the poem feel honest, almost like a confession. The mood is quiet and tender at first, then uneasy. The darkness may be a literal childhood fear, but the poem hints that it has grown into something larger the speaker still carries.