Tonight I’ll sew a cover of moonbeams in a quilting bee with elves. We’ll stitch the scraps together with threads from the narrative of her wishes, and the fabric will be as fair as the whispered lullaby of a ladybug singing her children to sleep. I’ll cover her lightly, kiss her forehead, and guard the borders of her dreams, daring ogres and dragons to set foot within her gates.
All the world is governed by the moon, everything tidal, including this scrap quilt of moonbeams rocking her gently as she fades away. I’ll feel no jealousy when the sandman closes her eyes. Shh. We’re in this together, the sandman and I. We are fashioning sleep.
