By Ann Walters

Quiet words, whispered.
The drapery of drama is pulled back now.
Tied up on the sides of night
it is inconspicuous. Nudge of a foot.
The last of the sillies has been shaken out
of her playful arms and legs
and all that is left are a few made-up words;
one or two what ifs;
the backs of small fists rubbing eyes.
Arrange and re-arrange the covers
until she is her own little lump of warmth.
Curl up there and embrace
the deep distance between intent and action.
Vow it will be shorter tomorrow. Make promises
you can keep. Whisper quiet words.

Comments are closed 2 months after a piece is published.