Magazine, website & books written by teens since 1989

Lover's Lullaby

Custom User Avatar
More by this author
Don't rest your head so soon, my Love--
the night is not half ripe!
Don't let your eyelids fall, my Love--
I'll try to sing a lullaby.

Stars burn restless
against spent ember,
so pull your chin to the clouds, my Love,
and I will sing you songs of December

Don't dream of me, my sweetest Love,
but kiss my moonlit cheeks;
we can waltz the Blue Danube--
I'll sing a song with a three-beat tune.

August is your chest, my Love,
and bare ankles entangled in sheets
are November's gentle grasp, my Love
under salmon skies I'll sing you to sleep.



Post a Comment

Be the first to comment on this article!




Site Feedback