Nearer to the midnight hour
Than thee,
My ship sinking neath lids of iron,
I lay me down and entrust my soul
To the muses,
The Gods of Poetry and Art,
My poems to keep.
Tuck me in, kiss my forehead,
They smile knowingly.
I ask in the slow, punctuated,
Indistinct voice
Of drowsy,
"Will I see you tomorrow?"
They reply:
"Soon we shall meet again
In dreams most colorful,
Whether in this world,
Or the next,
T'is another's choice,
All is chance."
*Then they soft whispered:
But new poems will lie by your side,
Pillowed beneath thy head,
Guardians and Friends,
Wherever, Whenever.
For once a poet,
A poet forever.
So journey on,
Good Night To You,
Our child."
12:04 pm.
Companion poem to,
(6 days ago)
"Good Night To Me"