Sleepwalking

A poem for Mary Jane
by Chris Hibbard
January 30, 2015

Sleepwalking

She had stayed up all night just to welcome the sun.
A party of one, joined only by the sound of the seals on the harbour rocks.

She knew that the night had slipped far away,
chased by the day into pin pricks and loud laughter.

Though she had to go to school, it was all just sleepwalking,
and the sounds from her throat weren’t the sounds of her talking.

The only things real were the soft, silent sounds
of her tears in the world, and his heart beating in her ear.

He had sent her the moon, wrapped in his words.
Reality unblurred, somehow slowed to the crawl of an hour.

The world wasn’t so cold when she lay down at night.
His presence made it right, like the sound of laughter.

And she treasured his heart in the palm of her hand,
unscared of the man, only unsure of her place in his life.

And the sound of his voice made the whole world feel right,
gave her peace in the night, let her sleep like a child.

Though she had to go to work, it was all just sleepwalking.
and the sounds from her lips weren’t the sounds of her talking,

The only thing real – a love that kept on growing.

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~ by Chris Hibbard on January 30, 2015.

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