Scattered Dreams

Whenever I fell asleep my father came & cupped me in his hands carried me to bed as if I were as precious as water in a hot dry land or draped like discarded clothing on a couch...in a garden on a bench or a beach I would be gathered up & awake to find myself back in the safety of my own bed. And I would have thought I had flown or being magically transported by a spell but it was only the ordinary magic of my father cradling me in his arms gathering up the littlest of my scattered dreams stroking my hair & tip-toeing backwards out of the room his voice full of tenderness casting a spell “Good night son...goodnight...goodnight.”