Saints We Love

Monday, October 24, 2011

Up in the Middle of the Night 
Written for Jonathan Ward Meade Fenwick
Summer 1966

My Mother and I have a game we play
Called Up in the Middle of the Night 
It’s a game for two
When all is very quiet

Sometimes I cry, though I don’t want to
And she always says
“No one has to be that unhappy.”
She holds me very close
And says lovely things
Like, “Well, well, my Little Love.”

We walk a lot
Because I like that best
And we see the house in the almost dark
Sometimes we see the other people
And say lovely things about them

Sometimes we sit in a chair that almost rocks
With all the sides high around us
If we’re up in the middle of the night very late
We put pillows on the side
Because sometimes we almost fall asleep

We play forget games
Like standing up and laughing games
Like Mother and Mr. Love a Lot games
Or kissing cheeks games
And sometimes making embraces, our mouths brush
And our hearts fill the rooms
With accordions playing loud silent music

We don’t hurry our game
Because there is so little time we can play it
Even if we’re very tired
We bundle-up and snuggle-up
As long as we can
Singing songs my Mother remembers
Or looking at the moon
Or just being very quiet 

But when we agree
To end our little party
My Mother puts me on my tummy
Warms my blankets around me
And with a warm caress
Whispers, “Goodnight my Little Love.  I love you,”

Now, isn’t that a lovely game to play
Up In the middle of the night

Claire Meade Fenwick  aka Terry Fenwick 
2281 Featherhill Road
Santa Barbara, California 

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