THE AMBROSIAL FRAGRANCE OF THE INVISIBLE BABY
Distant love
can feel so
close
and close
love
can feel
can feel
so
distant
depending on what the
commute is.
I could say the same
thing about
memories
which is
distance
held close
With eyes closed
but open for
distant
depending on what the
commute is.
I could say the same
thing about
memories
which is
distance
held close
With eyes closed
but open for
Dreaming Season
I can
feel the
warm
skin
And
inhale
I can
feel the
warm
skin
And
inhale
the
ambrosial fragrance of the
invisible
which sways like
invisible
which sways like
a pendulum
in the
hammock of my arms
as the high tenor section
of in the choir of my heart
sings a good-night song
like Peter Pan’s
Tender Shepherd
Which began with the question
“Can anything harm us mommy after the
night lights are lit?”
To which mother responded
“Nothing precious. They are the eyes
that a mother leaves behind
to guard her children.”
And then
the disciples of Neverland
took flight
to reach
whatever in life felt
scary
unreachable
or
in the
hammock of my arms
as the high tenor section
of in the choir of my heart
sings a good-night song
like Peter Pan’s
Tender Shepherd
Which began with the question
“Can anything harm us mommy after the
night lights are lit?”
To which mother responded
“Nothing precious. They are the eyes
that a mother leaves behind
to guard her children.”
And then
the disciples of Neverland
took flight
to reach
whatever in life felt
scary
unreachable
or
far
far away
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