SCATTERED DREAMS

Whenever I fell
asleep

my father came
& cupped me in his hands

carried me to bed
as if I were as precious

as water
in a hot dry land


or draped like discarded clothing
on a couch...in a garden


on a bench or a beach
I would be gathered up


& awake to find myself
back in the safety of my own bed.


And I would have thought
I had flown


or being magically
transported by a spell


but it was only the ordinary
magic of my father


cradling me in his arms
gathering up the littlest


of my scattered dreams
stroking my hair

& tip-toeing backwards
out of the room

his voice
full of tenderness


casting a spell
“Good night son...goodnight...goodnight.”