POG

It was
The tears of our mothers
Or the fears of our fathers
Tucking us in
With the
Sheets
At night
With the
Songs
At twilight
Twinkling stars and more moons than one
As we boarded boats on a bright bon voyage to the sun
In camouflage
Chuckling with chameleons
Who thot they were one in a million
Little did they know
They were a million in one
Cajoling consoling colors camping out in chasm between chaos and cheer
Tents bridging, being, terrifically strong (in them chameleons mated and did belong)
And
Pillows where heads lay
Tears fell
Fears melted silence
Like dripping candle wax onto skin
And ow
The heat from your heart hurts
I cant sleep in spurts
The bon voyage became an entourage
Of unwelcomed guests knock knock knocking
At my door
Imploring to explore me more more and
Didn’t they know
After the tears of my mother
Or the fears of my father
As if in class, my eyes were absent of angelic allure
Even the chameleons faded into the floor
So, we picked them up, a small chore
Got paid for selling them in the store
Where we bottled up joy and sold it, too
For a flashier, funnier toy, a new
football, or some junky clinquant
And
I grew gray haired, tired, a robot unwired
And
archaic
and
an Asian sacrosanct temple
I was, I am
I still
Remember more moons and chameleons
Crawling into spoons
Than I do the tender tunes
At twilight
Sheets
Tuck me in, good night
Taking the mask, placing it over my plight
Of nightmares goons
Under myriad moons
Forever washed over
In wax, whisked to the shore
with chameleons crawling into tents
Bridging the divide:
safe-warm sleep somber dreaming

and
fearful tearful streaming
The tears of our mothers
And the fears of our fathers
Forever and ever more