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