Night Light - 4 - Poem by Bill Grace
At bed time with acolyte precision
The night lights are turned on
First, the Mickey Mouse in daughter's room
Then downstairs bath and kitchen nook,
So that slowly in darkness
The house in silence is lit.
A strange ritual in the high sunset of my years
For one who has lived so many of Kipling's minutes
And strives to this very hour.
But it is to me a comfort that quiet light can see
Darkness through to day
For my hope is that in the dark some unseen hand
May grant me quiet light till my dark shall turn to day.
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