Do You Remember Walking Retiring On Sleeping Feet? Poem by Mark Heathcote

Do you remember walking retiring on sleeping feet?
When we were little more than three
Oh, how we always held hands, we plodded on heavy feet
We were like two crumple leaves
Do you remember how we were?
How we were the universes, unwilling guests
Do you remember how we were?
When we cried and dried a wet tear, always falling back.
We did not need counting sheep
After a long day of play climbing up the stairs
We'd of a hammock in a nearby crescent moon
Took whatever bitter medicine mother puts on a spoon.
Do you remember how good it felt falling back into bed?
In new folded bed linen sheets.
Do you remember walking retiring on sleeping feet?
When we were little more than three
Like too tired spirited weary garden bees
Retiring to our beds, like two crumple leaves
With a kiss, the breath of mothers tired sighs on our lips.
Do you remember walking on sleeping heavy feet?
With a song, music; playing in your corn doll head
And mildew in the heavenly clouds as we slept.
Do you remember how we'd fret about the dark?
How we clung on to a ball of starlight in our hearts that never went out.
Oh, how much would you give to plod on heavy feet back there again?
To fall back into bed with new crisp folded bed linen sheets.
When we were little more than three
Like too tired spirited weary garden bees
Retiring to our beds, like two crumple leaves
With a kiss, the breath of mothers tired sighs on our lips.