Each one is precious, you see,
gently set on the ground beside you
or right in your hand
seconds before you sleep.
Slowly the day ends,
Eyelids drooping with sleep
and exhaustion of day,
the bed always so warm and inviting.
Through the stillness of a doorway
nothing seems to be disturbed
as it may be
things may not be as they seem
as they ought to be,
the past night counted off,
like ripped calendar pages
people used to keep on track.
it obvious you find yourself
held high above the earth
hoping to be quick enough.
for another night
your silent
hoping that they wake,
play silently with shadows
all night long.
