So, the baby has decided to celebrate the milestone of his first birthday by returning to sleeping like a newborn. Possibly even worse than one.
He had his jabs last week (a nasty triple-whammy of MMR, Meningitis and some other nasty virus) and he’s got a cold AND he’s teething so perhaps terrible sleep is to be expected but urgh. And bleurgh. I am crap with sleep deprivation. I am not one of those sunny ‘ah well, never mind, he’s only a baby’ types. I sulk and moan. I’m a grump.
But anyway, I digress… in the dark hours of the long, arduous night last night, I wrote this poem. I can’t pretend it’s the best thing I’ve ever written, although frankly, even if it was, I wouldn’t know as I’ve lost all… you know… what ever that stuff is that makes you able to understand and judge things…
Here it is (and I think you can tell I was fed up of it being night!):
The darkest hour
Molten moonlight drips
through silhouettes of trees.
Dazzled darkness trips
and tumbles to its knees.
Stolen sunlight slips
from fraying bonds and flees,
chasing nightmares out before it,
spreading sunbeams in its wake.
NB – I wrote most of this post on Wednesday evening and posted it on Thursday morning. In between, the baby actually SLEPT and when I woke up I changed a few key words of the poem. I think it works better than it did. Still not sure though.
Linking up with Prose for Thought over at Verily Victoria Vocalises.