We tell most nights that we can do it:
close our eyes and start to sleep.
Some nights have minds of their own though.
They linger in corners, hide behind curtains,
or already have one foot out of the door
but hesitate to leave. A sense of duty.
Aware of our faults, they observe reluctantly.
They know all about our sad misbehaving.
They decide to keep us company till dawn opens the window,
and grin at us because they know we can see them
but not keep.
One night had an understanding with me.
He would come back every evening
and watch over my dreams, keep them in control.
In return, I would not whine about lost sleep.
Some months ago however he told me
he needed a new challenge in life
so he went out of my bedroom
long before it was dawn.
Left between darkness and light,
I was back in the womb of pre-existence.
I was without night. Midsummer.
About to close my eyes this morning,
I noticed that the night returned.
He had missed me he said, so we made up.
Now I sleep in his arms
and he whispers old poems in rhythms of rain.
Like most nights he tells me
that I can well sleep.
He makes sure my nightmares stay out of the bedroom.
He still has a mind of his own though.
Will he stay, I’m not sure.
I try not to whine.