Sanctified Sleep

I bless his dreams every night
By uttering quiet words
Expressing my love
Across into his semi-conscious drift,
When his mind is too weak to sift
My speech
Of its reason.
For we have welcomed a season
Where our emotions blossom
And ripen
Sweet tasting to my lips,
For the fields of his thoughts are
Mine to harvest,
Reaping the blessings
Of countenance
Gathering the graces of providence,
All collected as fruits of
Our labours combined.
For it is with him I find
My Peace
Again.

- Arielle John.

copyright 2007.