a poem a day for a year #157

by Amy Turn Sharp


I stood over your crib tonight
after putting you to bed
tucking you in
telling you all about the sweet drop dreams
you could have if you just closed your eyes
reminding you of the exhilaration of tomorrow
if you just closed your eyes
and I leaned on the wooden rails and wanted so badly
to be small enough to sleep beside of you

and I remember being very young and my bed was against the wall
and in my mind
the space between the bed and the wall
was the end of the line
the crack in the earth
and I dared not hang my hand there for long
and if I fell
I would keep falling
until my sweet mother scooped me up
and rocked me like Paul Simon
and the late evening summer sun
almost made a noise as it
crept across my room