Tuesday, May 26, 2015

Pessimists' lullaby

Car seat to shoulder.
Warm cheeks whisper, exhale.
Fold into sheets and blankets with
ever waiting menagerie.

Pause between prayers and a kiss.

I wish I could promise,
you need not fear. That nothing
will ever go bump
in the unceasing abyss of night.
Intruders will never
slip through the window
or skulk under your bed.
Peaceful rest is guaranteed,
and our house will never erupt
from an electrical misfire or
a candle left unattended.
I want to guarantee illness cannot
invade our little world.
That we will wake anew
as the east sun crests 
every morning.

I’d like to tell you everything
will be all right, always.
Honest, I’d like to.