A Mother's Silken Whispers

 

A Mother’s Silken Whispers ~

 

 

Your song,

A dancing moonlight,

Laced with an infinite delicacy-

A pretty white picture cushioned,

In the arms of a flitting nightingale,

White-glimmer-soft, pursed lips,

And the arms of a mother,

Singing the stanzas,

Carrying the chorus,

In her white vastness,

That glimmers in the moonlight-

As a smooth pearl-

Fairies choreographing-

Their creamy sequence,

And the silk moonlight maintains the sweetness,

Her exquisite song,

Which pours out from her lips-

As the baby cries gently,

And the mother birds rest-

As do even the owls,

That hoot like lower demons . . .

 

Lips and silkiness-

An exquisite sweetness,

Luxurious jewel necklace,

And a pearl myth . . .

 

A faint mother’s song,

A baby’s swathing cocoon,

While the birds, are hidden in the image . . .

 

Everything is held,

Within a darker union,

Beneath the moonlight,

In the heavy blackness,

But yet-

We shall wait for the Everlasting,

Because the mother’s song,

Will never die,

Her soft music, clothes angelic,

A faint dust trickle,

As the fairies dance divinely,

And a child clutches,

A mother’s embracing-

That would be all, I would guess,

That binds this woman’s wish . . .

 

Her lips are like dove wings,

Her song an angel’s mirth,

And her silk hair,

Is woven into loping braids,

That slowly caress her back,

As the foot-light fairies toy,

With her fair child,

Through the tickling strands,

That fall down over her breast,

And the child coos to her,

While the mother holds her tight, whispers lowly-

‘you shan’t ever worry child,

For I,

Will grant to you all the night,

And every dark creature shall turn into,

Sheathes of sunlight . . .’