Messages Poem by Danielle Nguyen

I wait for night time.
I, the messenger of dreams,
stand under the black expanse
arching tall and vastly silent
and I think of you, what you must look like
the slow slope of your back,
white under the silver light
moonlight against the stillness of snow.

Eyelids descend, open my palms
and I feel the sky breathe past my fingers
I see stars; they’re like
that warm peace
of falling asleep to the smell of your bed
Cup my hands around
the soft light
and sing to it with my breath
sing prayers that my words,
whispers like petals,
will float to you over treetops,
kissed by the clouds to fall to your lips
waiting for you to wake as though
waking to my own.

I call to the night’s birds
give them my messages of
your face so bright in my mind
like dawn creeping
eclipsing my shoulders
Your memory seeps in
wrapping over, around my arms as though
sharing my coat.
I tell them about the way
I can smell the woods and shade
in your hair
Tell them they can find you where
the sun first meets the moon
that in-between calm; it sounds like
the way my heart beats for you.
Tell them to lay this message softly upon your ears
so as not to disturb your dreams
let them float inward
to wake you with my words:
poems written in the night,
by these hands, waiting for yours.