Sleepily
the Father visits his son in the dark of day
The son is abed, pale in the light of night
For the sun and moon are witness in this hour of twilight
But the sun is not heat and does not shine as bright
And the moon is not rigid rock
The sun is a warm hope, fading ever so slightly
The moon is softness, the dark is soothing
The son is abed, covers sprawled over his listless form
The son is restless, he doth not sleep
The son is ebbing, his heart does weep
and his Father lifts the covers up tight around his chest
and kisses his brow;
The son blinks wearily, smiles wanly, whimpers meekly
Sleep my son, the Father whispers
But I cannot sleep - Sleep eludes him
I want to play - Rest prances about him
close enough to want, just out of reach
And how can I sleep father? - How can he rest atop this fated bed?
When I wish to wake? - When his heart doth weep restlessly?
the Father wavers, he caresses the son's brow, but not his heart
For the heart is within, the caress without,
Rest my son, he says, rest and forget
The Father, gently, lovingly, pulls the covers up, tight around the son's neck
But father, father why
My heart will not sleep
Five more minutes? Just five.
Sleep son, the hour is late, the time is neigh
And the Father, always lovingly, he pulls the covers tight over the son, and lowers him into
the ground.
Copyright © Samir Georges | Year Posted 2010
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