A poem at home

I hear the ticking of a clock, and I turn
my head. There are two, which one could
it be? Probably the one with the lady on
the swing, she looks festive.
My mom is asleep in the room next door,
I can almost see her feet hanging off
the couch. I bet they're uncomfortable,
but she sleeping in the deep now.
Ants are creeping around, and I found one
sneaking up my leg. But I smashed it
between my index and thumb, in fear.
Why am I scared of the minuscule ant?
I'm so much bigger and stronger, I'm better.
But I've always been scared, some things
just don't change since you're 5.