awake
listening to the rain and you
fighting it out for scraps
.
I welcome night
fading
lights out
and you
sleep through, proud lion snoring
in time
.
I am
out of it
.
time
.
a small enemy grew
tearing down white cells
making white mountains
of hills and
valleys
of tears
followed
atop my pillowcase
.
sleep is for you now
.
tomorrow
after dawn kisses your melon
I will tell you
after I’ve blown
cool air across a lake of coffee
pooling in my cup
.
I never dreamed of dropping this
in your lap
.
were sleep mine,
were dreams still
a hand
that reached back for me,
I would hold out hope
for technical climbs,
and you
carrying the load
my Sherpa,
my lead,
my guide rope,
my stabilizing force against --
against doubt and
shadowy white mountains
giving rise to false hopes
like mounting fears
.
this body relinquishes its foothold,
seeks
its own level,
where dreams and you
may not follow
***
Copyright © 03/25/2024 by Christy Munson. All rights reserved.
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Comments (5)
Wow! So poignant with such a blend of care and anguish. Beautifully done, Christy!
Brilliant & loved it!!!❤️❤️💕
Oooo, lake of coffee! That was brilliant! Loved your poem!
The graciousness of letting sleep come before strength is needed. Great poem.
The best thing we can give to our beloved ones is Time.