The clouds cry me to sleep at night,
their endless tears
caressed by the earth.
The skies are dark
and the clouds are heavy.
The air is cool and gentle
like a mothers hand,
cradeling the cheek of her childs
tear streeked face.
As the clouds move back,
to show the brightly lit stars,
staring down at the mother earth bleow.
Much like the eyes of the child,
that slowly close,
and reveal a look of peacefulness,
as sleep is washed over them.
Like the blanket that is carefully draped over the sleeping child
who lay
silently in the mothers lap.
And as the night turns into dawn,
the mother,
to,
is captureed in the depths of sleep.