In the early hours of the morning
Before the sun rose
And the trees rustled with birds flying to and from their nests
How you lay in your bed
In the half light,
Cheeks flushed like pink azaleas,
Your sleepy face on your pillow
Next to my daughter’s.
She curled up beside you
With her hair
Spilling across the thin fabric of your pillow
Like golden sap.
I know how the moments
Seemed to stand still for awhile,
How the years seemed to have traveled back
To the room where you slept when I was a child.
Your bed was my sanctuary,
The sacred place where
Fears and nightmares were obsolete.
I can see how your thoughts took you
to that place when your granddaughter
Lay beside you
And you said my name.
In the those moments she became me
All those years ago
Before I grew and changed and forgot what it was like to live
In that safe place you had spun for me
Where the silk fibres of my existence lay
In this safe yet delicate construction.
By J. Hamilton