I read to you
before you go to bed
of Little Bo Peep
and her lost sheep.
Almost asleep,
you tell me
of the forest
on the stair.
I reassure you
there’s no forest there.
But you and something
nearer to your dream
than mine have come
face to face
in some other
time and space.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem