Hush…

Father’s boat will soon be mooring.

You shall see him in the morning

When tide returns him home.

 

Sleep…

Time for thoughts and dreams of glory.

Time to drift to realms of story

Where gallant deeds are done.

 

Rest…

Do not heed the wind’s load roaring  

Nor the shrieks of gulls that, soaring

On night’s wings, fill the air.

 

Peace…

Have no fear, though breaking waves crash,

And the snarling, heaving, sprays lash

Against the harbour walls.

 

Calm…

Noises poison minds at midnight,

Things we see without our eyesight

Lay traps and catch us there.

 

Hush…

Father’s boat will soon be mooring.

We shall see him in the morning.

Pray tide returns him home.

​