Voice in the other room

Sometimes you hear a voice
Through a transparent sleep,
A voice from the other room,
As all you see is fearful night
Around the bed’s wet waking.

Voice floats in another room
As if it is the belly soft mom
And mom is afloat on its top
Wearing head cloth of night,
A night first to be alive stars
She would point with a finger.

Moms belly is a deep furrow ,
A stick coming alive on road
Tapping  fearful road sounds
For the monsters on a prowl,
To scare them back to trees.


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