Years and years before your birth, in space
the moon wore blankets warmly round its place.
It shone with laughter, feeling sleepy when
skylarks fluffed feathers, tickling its face.
Hundreds of years before your age, in Greece
a doll and baby saw the moon wear fleece.
In time they took their shepherds home to bed,
where sheep and goats were resting right in peace.
Thousands of years before your eyes in Rome,
a girl and doll had parents home by home.
Reading them stories, falling fast asleep,
they dreamed of doves nesting the Iron Dome.
My darling, let’s now whisper: “May I sleep?”
I want your dreams go real. Pure peace let’s keep.
All doves and dolls sailing an azure gulf,
in Wales and England, people playing golf,
they know it’s past our bedtime now. It’s late.
Let’s see next day what birds sing to our fate.
March 21, 2016