Mother dreams

There was no sound on slippered feet,
and yet I heard your tread,
and knew that you had found your way;
I felt your whispered breath.
Through dusted halls of shadowed night,
you followed as I dreamt,
and breathed the love of mothering;
brought comfort as I slept.
There was a touch ephemeral,
a silent, graceful hand,
to wipe away the dreaming tears;
I woke and you had fled. 

About rosross

Editor, writer, poet.
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