Mother Goose

Nursery Rhyme

I wrapped up tonight

when the sun went to sleep,

put on a sweater,

pulled out a book. 

And I sat in the dark

until starlight peeked in

through the window

to bathe me in just enough light. 

It was then, with my fingertips

caked in dust,

I flipped a page

and climbed inside.

All my edges

began to blur,

becoming a picture

in long-dried ink.

If weeks were to pass

and you found this book

lying open on the table,

next to curdled milk,

would you look inside

and find me there,

captive in parchment,

drying up?

Would you save me - I wonder -

could you spare time to try?

If missing your voice

I'd found your eyes lost there,

beside mother's goose,

I would dive in after,

regardless of knowing

we could never get out.