Whenever I fell
asleep
my father came
& cupped me in his hands
carried me to bed
as if I were as precious
as water
in a hot dry land
or draped like discarded clothing
on a couch...in a garden
on a bench or a beach
I would be gathered up
& awake to find myself
back in the safety of my own bed.
And I would have thought
I had flown
or being magically
transported by a spell
but it was only
the ordinary
magic of my father
cradling me
in his arms
gathering up the littlest
of my scattered dreams
stroking my hair
& tip-toeing backwards
out of the room
his voice
full of tenderness
casting a spell
“Good night son...goodnight...goodnight.”
Dónall Dempsey
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/scattered-dreams-2/
