by drew deGennaro
Where I live the lights are left on
And spread like a blanket over the darkened cage
Where they chirp well past twelve and
That melody is why we sleep, with such ease
And in his chair, on top of the sturdy wooden floors
One of Fatherâ€™s hands supports his neck.
Nodding up and down, feet caught by the winds,
The supplemental air is sweet
A pillow placed at the end of his head.
Flying with dreams he swallows his breath again.