While succumbed in her slumber
She hears the squeak of the gate
Then tosses and turns on her shoulder
Slowly opens her eyes and focuss her gaze
Pauses on the night stand a dark figure
the “tink” and the “tumb” of falling gold
then closes her eyes fast to not look eager
faking her sleep while her arm lolled
The figure kept moving around the room
under the blanket a smile had set loose
looking at the silhouette that in the dark loomed
eyes half open, to look awake she refused
At last the silhouette approaches the bed
she convinces herself to be profoundly at rest
he folds down the sheets and kisses her head
wraps her in his arms warmer than a nest
No more fear, let’s go to bed
Dad is home, keep on at rest
She told this to herself as she laid her weary head
Starlight, moonlight, black veil at best
-CCC
I made this poem on Father's Day. And if you are ever wondering, yes, it's base on my childhood. It was a really nice feeling knowing my dad got home. I feel like this poem has a kid story kind of vibe. It's simple, it rhymes, is short, so I guess is something someone could read to their kids. I tried to remember all my genuine thoughts of the moment my dad got home so it could translate to something transparent and innocent.
