Approaching Storm

Poetry Month. Poem A Day. No. 26

     for the girls from decades ago

As quiet as snow
you arrive at my pillow
frightened by the storms
that jolt your elbows,
that won’t release you,
they cloud your little girl soul

My breath drapes you
sill to ceiling
back to infancy
late night feedings
the lullaby of my pulse
is all that sleep needs
to return and tuck
you in again

I want to push away
your nightmares
the demons
that open your eyes in the dark
with sharp knuckles
and send them out into the cold
without a jacket or gloves
and certainly no sand

And when I rid the fright
from your sleepy sky
that long-fingered grip gone
once and for all
you will not
come to me to snuggle
anymore

Photo by eberhard grossgasteiger on Unsplash