Whenever I fell <br />asleep <br /> <br />my father came <br />& cupped me in his hands <br /> <br />carried me to bed <br /> <br />as if I were as precious <br />as water <br />in a hot dry land <br /> <br />or draped like discarded clothing <br />on a couch...in a garden <br />on a bench or a beach <br /> <br />I would be gathered up <br /> <br />& awake to find myself <br />back in the safety of my own bed. <br /> <br />And I would have thought <br />I had flown <br /> <br />or being magically <br />transported by a spell <br /> <br />but it was only <br />the ordinary <br />magic of my father <br /> <br />cradling me <br />in his arms <br /> <br />gathering up the littlest <br />of my scattered dreams <br /> <br />stroking my hair <br /> <br />& tip-toeing backwards <br />out of the room <br /> <br />his voice <br />full of tenderness <br /> <br />casting a spell <br /> <br />“Good night son...goodnight...goodnight.”<br /><br />Dónall Dempsey<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/scattered-dreams-2/
