A bend around the tiny little clutch Sleep, hands across above his head. I bent over to cover him with a sheet He pushed it aside with mumbling unclear A big broad fulfilling smile his lips convey What could it be for ? What dreams and worlds you are in ?
No son, I don't wake you up to see... No world or dream for us Sans any admonishing psalm, a sweatless brow Sans fences and frontiers Happy you fly in the realms and skies With no care for towers nor the runway No wings that clip over time
For my part- the only thing I can do Is not to wake you up For any food or fruit-nor milk Nor to me and the likes of me.