words could fall from great heights
petal soft from the Tree of Heaven
Springtime words, hush thee, sleep my child
Sweet child words, breezes to
Cradle thee in thy morning sleeping;
Flower scented, the little winds bring only a whisper of warming sun
Upon you, little one
In dreams it is always this way
That the day is forever breaking;
Their nightfall never comes.
mary angela douglas 23 june 2024
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem