Our Sunshower Song

When I was a child, when it was time for bed, That softer time, when the sun was set to a tangerine-violet tucking-in by tired-heavy lid of the horizon, them, and now in dreams, did you tend in me that life-teeming seed that beats upon the shore-universal within by ebbs and flows learned, absorbed without in porous, vulnerable youth, whose fountain true lies not in a putrid puddle promising embalmed life everlasting, selfish-stolen breath beyond our time, but, simply put, in the love of the mother, in her watering song that blesses the som a well that, tended honest, will never run dry... When I was a child, you'd sing to me a simple song to put me to sleep. It didn't matter that it was common, because nothing is common to a young child, and no tune can be common if sung true... "You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. You make me happy when skies are gray. You'll never know, dear, how much I love you. Please don't take my sunshine away..." I remember you singing the last line a little differently—or maybe I just heard what I needed to: "I won't ever let them take my sunshine away." It was so important for me, to hear that part over and over, my drops of water—I carry them still. And I've tried to tend the wellspring you instilled. At times it's overflowed, and I've given your love away, lied and said it was mine, lost track of everything and worried that my well had run dry... But you've always kept your door open for me, and I've seen how you always open your blinds, every day, to let your sunshine find its way back home. And so I know my well can never run dry: I only need to let the water of your love showers rise up through my earth, and lift me from my horizon, humming your song that I'll never let them take away...