Sleep-Hunting
In the eve, while the owls sleep-hunting There shows a child who is trapped in silk, Every portion of her skin wears bare planters, Glistened caves, hides those frowns, Where the ponds shave deeper, Where the ice breaks sooner, There swims a child who is trapped in winter, White baby frowns, Searching, fighting, hoping, not to drown, In the eve, while the little gnomes are mining beauty, Coal-scarf breakfast, Invites her every time, There starves a child who is trapped in within December Pleasant sallow chills, Sleeping in her hands, In the eve, while the owls sleep-hunting, Meadow whispers are fading out, Veiling skies are reaching out, And there lies a child, who’s free of free, And there lies a mother, Dear forgotten mother, That child, O’ that child was meAnd her palms pulsated, as my wishes were forgotten Written October 6th, 2001 © on Oct 05 2001 05:31 PM PST 0 • 1
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"In the eve, while the owls sleep-hunting..."