To My Future Bed
Come, sweet Maya, let me tell you something.
You crawled under my bed covers last night
whimpering and shaking a nightmare’s fright.
I should have kissed you, called you my pumpkin,
tickled you and wiggled you to laughing.
But my mind won’t give, my body won’t turn
to protect you. You are the bird who ran
from the sky, my darkest days came crashing
to you. My eyes will search, ears will follow
your breath to my last. Now come, take my hand.
I will hide you from these times of sorrow.
Count in your head one through ten.
To my future bed, we stand,
Grant me a day a time to see her grow.
Lisa Sammoh is a creative writing major. She is a senior at the University of South Florida. She is also a co-editor at her university’s English department undergraduate literary magazine, thread.