Little Hands


I’ll burrow deeper into feather, into soft downy threads

Nestle and settle in a ball in this bed

Escape my head.

Escape you. All of you.

I need time at sea. Time to see.

To dream away this life of grime.

Time… so much time.

This life of traffic, of murk.

Work.Work. Work.

I’ll float in nothing for a while longer

Until I’m stronger

But little hands land on my head

Soft cheeks settle on my pillow

‘Are you ok mum? Are you asleep?’

For little voice I’m drawn out of the deep.

This time.

I hug little hands close to me

Under the cover

For now hibernation is over.

For now. 

(c) Slumpless


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