Box Fan Murmurs

Sleep eludes me

And I begin to

Retrace memories,

Tasting the experiences,

Painting different outcomes,

Waiting for the light of day.

The box fan murmurs,

Playing the soundtrack,

Making melodies

For my mental album.

A 5-year-old shares my pillow.

Arms over my neck,

Legs thrown over me,

Soft snores and mumbles,

And the sweet smell

Of an innocent new life.

Where would I be

Without the presence of

These little ones

Loving me,

Holding me,

Healing me?

I toss every so often

Finding comfort in the now.

I trace over the past

Weaving it to all that is,

All that I’ve become as

The box fan murmurs…

“Let God. Let it go.”

I hear the melodies in the room.

The sounds of ancestral chatter,

Each whispering through

The cycling of the fan.

Life happens in this second,

During sleepless nights

As murmurs echo round and round.

Millie America 5/2022

My sweet baby boy passed out… I wish I was sleeping as peacefully as him.