Dulcet

He's been waiting for her arrival,

down the long and darkest hall, rattling in her waking shriek

as he sees her body fall, curling tightly in defeat.

He greets her calmly, helps her up,

knowing well what she seeks, knowing well what she's seen,

knowing well why she's so weak, knowing how to intervene.

He knows just how to do it.

A pocket-watch to gaze upon, so her eyelids dull,

so she dreams until dawn, so her body will lull.

He leads her somewhere
where her little heart can rest, where her little head can lay,
where her little mind can test the feeling of peace today.
He knows she'll sleep so soundly
when her eyes soon close, to dreams of Heaven's skies,
and calming river's flow, and many butterflies.

He watches as her body

melts into the softest sheet, her eyes following the locket

with a look so sweet, as the watch returns to his pocket.

He whispers in her ear

that she's worthy of love, that she is his sweetheart,

that she, his little dove, will never part.

He sings so very quietly

a song with dulcet tone, a lullaby to remind her

she will never be alone, as she spirals into slumber.

-LJ

26 & 29 May 2016