Hush Now

shh, my mother whispers
into my ear, warm breath tickling
the little sensitive hairs
on the nape
of my neck
(goosebumps pebbling
on my skin"")

it's alright, she says,
voice soft and slow and sweet,
like molasses oozing (drip drip)
from a chipped glassware jar:
it's alright,
it's alright,
it's alright.

well, words lose their meaning
after a while, mother dear
and nightmares cannot be chased away
by lingering empty promises

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