Marriage has been something we have discussed in great detail on M3. We have looked into where the hairline fractures are which become earthquake cracks. We have looked into compatibility. Now, let’s look into the everyday as the days turn to years, turn to decades.
More than a few people consider the everyday of married life to be a task through which sleeping is possible, plausible and preferable. Sleeping is the story of a groom over the course of his marriage. As you read, think about who is really sleeping.
You stepped lightly across the threshold,
Being careful not to snag the train
In the lock of the bedroom door knob.
Gently perching your bride on the foot
Of the bed you two would henceforth share
In the house you built for more than two.
In the quiet witching hour, you watched
The peaceful rise and fall of sleep’s breath
Caressing the heart beating for you.
A pet to nurture instincts before
You began the family you knew
You had dreamt for these rooms and your bride.
Time arrives for the fevered drive that night
To the hospital for your first born.
Watching the crib, smilingly sleepless,
Brimming with pride, you looked back at her,
Brushed a hair from her brow, so gently
In her dream, was love’s tender caress.
Two more identical nights would pass
Bringing smiling babies to your world.
She dreamt in her same peaceful slumber,
After such good, hard work was all through.
Years drift away, the children scattered.
Awakened beside her, you look on,
Her eyes dancing beneath heavy lids.
You wonder what you are doing there
In the fantasy world, two as one.
The grandchildren came and played today.
Cupcakes and brownies, the kitchen wrecked.
Giggles and laughter echoed, again
Through the halls where yours played long ago.
Now, snuggled on the couch, you cover
Her with her favorite soft blanket.
She sighs softly as she pulls it up
Beneath the smile. She’s sweetly dreaming.
Memories old and just made are set
In the perfection of reverie.
Today, you wake and look for the smile,
Dreaming of the love-kissed yesteryears.
Yet, her eyes do not flutter behind
Soft lids closed in restful repose and
There’s no rise and fall in her chest.
You’ve shared your last dream here together.
When you walk through the door, it’s alone.
Her dreaming heart is truly at rest.
(c) Ann Marie Dwyer
What is the significance of her sleeping? What does he miss when he sees her sleep? Are you or do you know someone sleeping through the everyday of marriage? What does this poem make you feel?
(c) Ann Marie Dwyer 2012
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