He came to me in dead of night;
He came to none but I.
His brow was slightly furrowed;
There was a twinkle in his eye.
His form was oh-so quiet;
His smile was sincere.
He set himself upon my bed
And spoke so soft and clear.
I asked him where he’d come from;
He quickly looked away,
Took a moment to consider
What it was he’d ought to say.
And then, at last, his voice broke
The silence of my room.
He said he’d come from far away;
He’d come escaping doom.
His eyes, they glazed like memories;
His mind seemed far away.
He began to talk of his life;
He asked if he could stay.
The lamp light spread shadows
Across his hollow face.
I very slightly nodded
And put him in his place.
He came to me in dead of night;
He came to none but I,
And now I keep his soul,
And I tell him when to cry.
His chains were made of paper;
His bonds were made of ink.
And now he’s only in my heart,
Beside a smile and a wink.
Copyright Sarah Davidson 2020
