Here little by little
The world creeps up your nostril
And these muted slow breaths
Come over me in a small chill
As you taste this new light
Waving from the window sill.
I just wonder
What murky waters did you cross
To reach to this dark hill.
And I feel the tears
In a shuddering cascade
As I stand here still.
This here place,
Where imps feast their fill
And drink your dreams dry
From the spirit that you spill,
Is a constant decay
That angels never come to kill.
But little one,
I, as your father,
Will protect you until
You forget how to frown,
Know that I will.
K. Jared Hosein
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/wistful-born-on-the-dark-hills/
