The tea is always on for napping.
She is kindly calm as lambssleeping
in grassy comfort with a moonlight blanket,
a flowing wrap around her lamp lit home
where we know a gentle offering of foods,
her easy embrace, then quickly off to bed
because we’ve no head for beer or strawberry wine;
this she knows without judgment.
At the two o’clock hour into the bedroom she creeps,
where she pulls back the sheets, with a sudden quickness
for someone so slow. The skin barely keeps up
with her bones, she steps in hushed tones tender.
Do you need something? Anything at all?
Watermelonapples? Prunes? Starfruit?
A sweetglass of linden tea? An apricot? Some grapes?
Some fried steak and potatoes? Ovaltine?
She gasps almost musically, “What is that my boy?
A scratch? Had it been a brawl?”
Then she smiles because it doesn’t matter,
all are finally safe at home with her.
She edges out of the bedroom disappointed,
a parakeet gliding down the face of a cage.
She goes back to her armchair in a clip-clap,
tip-toe to the lightest of one-eyed sleeps.
Love the ending.
The last stanza is gold.
Oh and the list of offerings is a gas.
” skin barely keeps up with her bones” is brilliant.
I also loved this: The skin barely keeps up/
with her bones, she steps in hushed tones tender. And the last sentence is straight music.
Thanks so very much, she was my aunt.
The internal rhymes and compundwordideas and overall protection and easy fuss. Wonderful portrait. The parakeet movement was unexpected and clear. Nicely done!
I love how you turned this out
I love how she tiptoes in her own house and sleeps so lightly, speaks almost apologetically- a loving nervous nelly.
Ovaltine took me to Frau Blücher, which I’m sure you didn’t mean, but I enjoyed the little side trip anyway. 😉
Stay close to the candles. The stairway… can be trrrreacherous.