just a quick piece of poetry - more just an image really, needs tidying up. It was just seeing my son asleep about an hour ago.
He has finally found sleep.
I peer round the door, see
His form quiet,
And, as ever, his duvet
Kicked to the end of the bed.
In sleep, his legs are crooked, one arm
Is flung behind him, the other
Raised to his face,
A frozen sprinter
In a dream of a race.
I walk towards him,
And gently cover his form,
Gently plant the laurels of a kiss
On his brow.
Race on, son, race on:
Past the sun, past the stars,
Outstrip the North Wind,
Skirt some distant galaxy
Then let the sun tug you homewards
That you may tell me the story of your race
As dawn broadens the world.
16-2-04
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