A Midnight Reverie

The fragments of glass lay broken on the floor.
I search for pieces that once felt right.
And next to it, a kicked-down door,
Left open, watching me in the night.

A world with the glow of a merry-go-round,
The carousel turned in golden light,
Spinning melodies of silent songs
That I would never remember to recite.

I fight—tight, strong—but I feel so small,
Called tiny from afar, yet heavy with skill.
Big men rise, and then they fall.
I keep the aftertaste of the prey I kill.

A nightmare whispers and clasps me in tight.
Footsteps rumble away—heart like candlelight—
To my mother’s bedside to ask in haste,
“Will you hold me tight in dear embrace?
And maybe again, I will know who I am.
Love me, oh love me, in the end."

Gentle hands caressed my spine when I was young.
My mother prayed through her teeth to the stars above.
Had it good, didn’t I?
She laid all that her fingers could run so steep—

A keen and watchful eye,
Making sure we would always meet.
Through my hair, my grandpa’s hand.
Midnight—there I lay asleep.

Stories told, now old and bland.
Long ago, there was the deep.
I’d pretend I could hold in the palm of my hand
The horses dancing on the nightstand.

From afar, drifting my arms in darkness,
Thinking only several days ahead.
Days were spent leaping from couch to couch,
Playing in the backyard with sprinkler heads,

Being attacked by mocking jays,
Surrounded by small wonders— Crickets, slugs, and ants.
A lone snail resting in the carport way.
There was dew and the scent of plants,

Crying into an embroidered towel of flowers,
She grieved not only for her dreams but a love so sour.

In that merry-go-round glow, the hours spun,
A childhood passed, the heart still knows.
All that time as I had fun...
I didn't know the buried prose.
A midnight reverie.