adventures in dysthymia

Tuesday, January 11, 2011


Before the bedtime story
came rosary.
One decade only, each night
as we were small
and would have fallen asleep
before we finished
the whole sixty-six
(or sixty-seven, if you
were one of those people)
prayers. Mom recited
the first half of each,
we -- my brother and I,
pajama-clad supplicants --
completing, moving our hands
to the next bead,
anticipating the Glory Be
that would mark the end
of one recitation
and the start of another.
Both were religious experiences.

Stephen Brooke ©2011

The whole poem exists pretty much so I can use the punch line. Once stated, there was probably no sense in writing more -- I prefer to leave anything else implied. I suppose the bedtime routine of prayer and book are a bit entwined in my mind...or would I have worshiped books anyway? :)

1 comment:

Bob said...

Great poem, Stephen.