nostalgia
my father goes to bed early
before the sun has set
hoping to find the dream he left behind
the night before
his screams are silenced by
a waxing gibbous
growing larger before his eyes
he is in awe of it
asking permission to take a bite out of it
but the moon says the fruit is not ripe
and my father
dejected
walks into the setting sun
there he is consumed by the next dream
wide awake in his crib
he is happy to be a child again
believing it is the moon
who had brought him back to life
back when his mother was the moon
a wonderful storyteller
altering her appearance day by day
and night by night
she fed him cow’s milk & swiss cheese
when the time was right
she sent him out into the pasture
telling him to discover a whole new world
and so off he went in search
of treasure
buried somewhere in the pasture
never to be seen again
november two thousand twenty-four
copyright j matthew waters
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