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.