tiny child of two or three
stood there at my father’s
bedside late at night face
pressed close breathing
his breath - waiting for
a fluttered lash – until as
sudden as sprung shades
in that black night his eyes
opened into mine shining
This reminds me of a young child feeling their parents' sleep for the first time--wanting to breathe with them--wanting them awake and yet not--beautifully penned
ReplyDeleteThis must be the sense of growing up, separation yet together.
ReplyDeleteWow, so beautifully written – grabbing me and leading me, fully engaged, up to that sunlit end.
ReplyDeleteThis resonates for me as one who often crept into my parents' bed at night when wakened by nightmares.
ReplyDeletethis contemplation of sleep from a child's mind is glowing
ReplyDeletemuch love...
Haha! As if proximity had little to do with the awakening! Beautiful.
ReplyDelete