Your Poetry Dot Com

Array ( [sid] => 145465 [catid] => 1 [aid] => mick [title] => Lullaby [time] => 2008-10-01 12:21:02 [hometext] => [bodytext] => Child, sweet child, has a sad night,
wakes up with a start from a little fright.
Weeping, self soothing, she sucks her thumb,
rocks herself and begins to hum.

Mother, gentle mother, sweeps by the room
to peep in on her child, asleep she assumes.
To her surprise, her daughter’s cheeks are wet,
she picks her up, tells her not to fret.

The child buries her face in mom’s sweater,
warm and pink, as soft as a feather.
Deeply she breathes in her mother’s smell,
like flowers, and cookies, and all that is well.

Her mother rocks her, strokes her hair,
lovingly sings, tucks in Mr. Bear.
With a bright smile gives a kiss goodnight,
the child now sleeps knowing all is right.

I imagine this picture as truth for many,
resonates largely in people’s memories.
For me it’s only a ghost of a dream,
but for my own child will be reality.
[comments] => 1 [counter] => 181 [topic] => 40 [informant] => roseabsolute [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 5 [ratings] => 1 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => fantasy ) Your Poetry Dot Com - Lullaby

Lullaby
Date: Wednesday, 1st October 2008 @ 12:21:02 PM AEST
Topic: Sad Poetry

Contributed By: roseabsolute

Child, sweet child, has a sad night,
wakes up with a start from a little fright.
Weeping, self soothing, she sucks her thumb,
rocks herself and begins to hum.

Mother, gentle mother, sweeps by the room
to peep in on her child, asleep she assumes.
To her surprise, her daughter’s cheeks are wet,
she picks her up, tells her not to fret.

The child buries her face in mom’s sweater,
warm and pink, as soft as a feather.
Deeply she breathes in her mother’s smell,
like flowers, and cookies, and all that is well.

Her mother rocks her, strokes her hair,
lovingly sings, tucks in Mr. Bear.
With a bright smile gives a kiss goodnight,
the child now sleeps knowing all is right.

I imagine this picture as truth for many,
resonates largely in people’s memories.
For me it’s only a ghost of a dream,
but for my own child will be reality.

This poem is Copyright ยฉ roseabsolute

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