When thunder split the night sky,
and rain pounded the earth, dreams
pushed Avery to my bed: "Dad,
I can't sleep, can I sleep with you?"
Only barely awake I pulled the covers
aside to make room, then heard his
breathing next to me,
soft beneath the rain,
counterpoint to thunder,
only a small puff of wind,
but strong enough to push his ship
away from shore, heading toward the horizon.
Jul 1, 2013
Jul 1, 2013 at 1:04 AM UTC
When thunder split the night sky,
and rain pounded the earth, dreams
pushed Avery to my bed: "Dad,
I can't sleep, can I sleep with you?"
Only barely awake I pulled the covers
aside to make room, then heard his
breathing next to me,
soft beneath the rain,
counterpoint to thunder,
only a small puff of wind,
but strong enough to push his ship
away from shore, heading toward the horizon.
My other twin, Avery. He doesn't climb into bed with me anymore (he's 13), and yes, I do miss it.