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.”


*


Gold and other such treasure? Forget it...my Da was my treasure trove...moments like these richer than the most precious of gems. My Da was priceless...every second of him was untold riches.