As a young child
I remember lying
in my parents bed,
between them,
wrapped in their blankets
and
engulfed in their snores.
I had just
woken up
from a nightmare,
scared, tired,
and trying to
self-sooth.
I
watched
as my mothers stomach
inflated and deflated
with every
lingering breath.
I tried to pace my own
in the same steady ongoing rhythm,
because only then,
would I not be sick.
Lying there
consumed in the dark
of the night,
worrying about
what the day would bring
and what my dreams would unleash.
Feb 6, 2014
Feb 6, 2014 at 10:02 PM UTC
As a young child
I remember lying
in my parents bed,
between them,
wrapped in their blankets
and
engulfed in their snores.
I had just
woken up
from a nightmare,
scared, tired,
and trying to
self-sooth.
I
watched
as my mothers stomach
inflated and deflated
with every
lingering breath.
I tried to pace my own
in the same steady ongoing rhythm,
because only then,
would I not be sick.
Lying there
consumed in the dark
of the night,
worrying about
what the day would bring
and what my dreams would unleash.
