I linger in the lamp-light of my room,
cling to the yellow bulb
and buzz around it
while the night becomes
quiet
and hungry outside.
I search
between the folds of my half-sleeping mind–
nothing much awake in there,
but the hum of a summer night,
visions of places I’ve not yet been.
So, I sleep without much to say,
dream about mountains and mosquito bites,
guitar circles and someone to sing to across the fire,
then a warm home
full of sleeping babes,
with a lamp in every room,
so they will always know the sun.
-Ellery Rose
Jan 20, 2025
Jan 20, 2025 at 12:32 PM UTC
I linger in the lamp-light of my room,
cling to the yellow bulb
and buzz around it
while the night becomes
quiet
and hungry outside.
I search
between the folds of my half-sleeping mind–
nothing much awake in there,
but the hum of a summer night,
visions of places I’ve not yet been.
So, I sleep without much to say,
dream about mountains and mosquito bites,
guitar circles and someone to sing to across the fire,
then a warm home
full of sleeping babes,
with a lamp in every room,
so they will always know the sun.
-Ellery Rose
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