It's Still Life

Transitions

Sleep. Sleep your deep wintery sleep,
and when you wake, you’ll be a bright little star.

Children will think you can grant their wishes.
Twinkle twinkle little star, they’ll sing.

Or maybe you’ll return as some tiny pink god
from whom new civilisations will descend.

Are you here, or are you gone – have you
fledged with time, you who lived for judgement day.

So you’ll take up with the wind, hoard words
into the darkness around you.

Sweet dreams will keep you.