As if their bedrooms hung with vines all around
they sleep and dream of fun and frightful things,
nestled in blankets of soft straw and grasses,
bedding made of cozy sticks and silent leaves.
As if they were little wild things in their caves
they wake and stretch their jaws with long yawns,
their round faces plump with sleep,
flush with warmth, shiny with rest.
As if all the hope in the world pours from their young hearts,
swells in their squeaky voices, surges through their bright pajamas,
through their cuddly arms and furry paws
wraps itself around you,
your own heart singing hopeful with that same young hope,
even as they cover you in soft and fierce kisses,
even as you know how they will grow and soar,
how they will stumble and slide, how they will flourish and fly,
as if they could never leave empty bedrooms behind.
Love it! It is so good to be back reading your poems! I have missed them these days away. This poem makes me think of Where the Wild Things Are! So sweet and beautiful. I especially love “nestled in blankets of soft straw and grasses/ bedding made of cozy sticks and silent leaves.” Lovely. I want to climb in with them! The ending is wonderful too and really closes the poem just right. Thanks for sharing and writing! You are doing a great job posting daily!! Poetry month yea!!
Thank you for all your kindnesses, Cynthia. I am ever encouraged by your reading and observing. Yes, indeed, this poem is after Where the Wild Things Are. A nod, an homage, even a thank-you: the vines all around, etc. It was part of the inspiration, for sure. So thankful for books like these!