Wednesday, November 22, 2017

Sleeping Sequoia

She asked me to sing
And then hum Brahms’ Lullaby.
She slipped into dreams
Almost immediately.

I hummed a while more
Anyway, soothing myself,
Remembering the long nights

Nearly comatose
Beside her crib, singing hours,
Afraid to stop or she’d wake,

The dark rooms, the rented homes
In remote desert valleys,
The mortgaged home in Zion,
The thousands of lives of life.

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