Poet # Three

I go watch them ev’ry night,
A little boy who’s lost his sight

 Mother takes good care of him,
But she worries; her face is tight

When she holds him close to her,
I notice that her hands turn white

The two are so close, I know,
I can tell how they feel just right

 Whenever they sit so close;
She reads to him from E. B. White

The one about the swan is
His fav’rite, by far, night to night

I feel myself close to them
When they hold each other so tight

 And in the way they both sleep
Curl’d together, my heart’s alight…

 Nine o’clock’s my fav’rite time;
They’ll go to bed, turn out the light

 She’ll sleep curl’d around her son
And I’ll be back tomorrow night.

The End

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