Monday, August 19, 2013

Poem 139: Softly

Today, I know better
Than to expect a
Sweet goodnight and
Sleep tight when I reach
Inside and stub my fingertips 
On the cold hard bottom 
Of the jar. Only crumbs.
Warm milk, then, and 
Something mild,
Saltines, perhaps, or hot,
Buttered white-bread toast.
Tomorrow the cayenne,
And ginger, bitter chocolate
And tart cherry pie. The most
I can hope for now is 
A sweet breeze through 
My veiled window and
A light burning softly
Beside my cool pillow.

(c) 2013, by Hannah Six


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