Day and night, night and day

In the early morning,
I held you when you cried.
In time, you began the building of your world.
You knew important things,
like the bear went over the mountain,
and also that the Camptown racetrack was five miles long.

At bedtime, native drums could be heard
as I thumped out their rhythm on your back and sang a song that said
that down in the jungle you would live in a tent
and you wouldn’t pay money, you wouldn’t pay rent,
you wouldn’t even know the time. But you wouldn’t mind.
Every night you asked for more, and got mad if I shortened the verse.

I reached out with the blue of my covered fingers, and you took the proffered hand.

In the broad noon of the day, you had built well. Worldly connections.
True and false friends.
I saw you less, as you ranged further and further, looking for something that you thought was beyond your doorstep.

But, you were the first to appear if I was in peril.

In this evening, now, you see the faltering.
As in a certain prophecy, it seems you have found a purpose.
I reach out once more, with weakened hand.
The blue shows through.

Take me to that place where there is no time, but I won’t mind.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s