Her Sleeping Form
It’s one in the morning; only the cat
and I are still awake at this late hour.
It (cat) sleeps during the daylight so that
when no one is watching it can devour
the remnants of an evening meal, making
a good excuse for it to wake us up
early. But I’ve no such undertaking
to keep me so alert, sipping a cup
of cooled chamomile and just listening
to the sound of her breathing as she sleeps,
dreaming of gardens and happy squirrels.
By the light of the pale moon, glistening
through the panes, her peaceful face makes me weep;
right now, that one sight contains my whole world.
21 JAN 2003
| Posted in Poems | No Comments »