Morning Poem # 4
Posted on | October 5, 2009 | 2 Comments
The clouds are gossamer and the moment never lasts
If we take daddy’s ladder, he says, looking out the window at the way the sky is rent, gold light spilling through the torn clouds,
then we could put it on the top of that tall, tall hill
and reach the sun, it would be hot,
but I what I really want
is to catch a cloud.
I would sleep with it at night,
it would be soft against my cheek,
and in the morning I would take it for a walk.
His cheeks flushed still from sleep,
his hair still tousled, soft.
On the couch pulling on corduroys for school, he stretches fingertips to toes
touching both sides,
so tall, and while he’s grinning big and wide,
the cat arches her back by the door,
the pot fills with water,
the morning sky grows clear.
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I am Christina Rosalie
Hello. I'm so happy you've stopped by!
I am a multimedia storyteller, digital strategist, idea starter, stalker of wonder, finder of four leaf clovers, MFA graduate student, and mama of boys. My first book,
will be published by SKIRT! Books in September, 2012.
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October 5th, 2009 @ 2:42 pm
Mmmmmmmmmmmm…come over here! The clouds have been low enough to walk this week!
October 9th, 2009 @ 2:52 pm
i love, i love, i love…
i love how you captured this
and i love their early morning sleepy talk…
sigh…
so sweet.
:O)