Draft in the author’s style. This poem was written for Poet of Bedtime Hush to sit beside the author’s own readings, and is waiting for the author’s review. The commentary is a working draft too.
Tomorrow waits beyond the door like a friend who's kept the time,
With a basket full of sunshine and a morning made of chime.
It does not mind the waiting, it is patient as the sea,
And it will not rush the night, for it knows the night must be.
Tonight has its own duties, to hush the world to rest,
To mend the tired muscles and to calm the troubled chest.
So let the lamps be dimmed and the little clocks run down,
And the sleepy folded blankets wear their gentle nighttime crown.
Whatever went unfinished, whatever went astray,
Will find its place in the light that comes with the new day.
The birds are in their feathers and the roosters in their dreams,
And the rivers rest their voices in the hush of silver streams.
Close your eyes, dear traveller, you have come a long way through,
And tomorrow waits with open arms, as ready as the dew.
Poet of Bedtime Hush · Hear it on the channel ↗
Commentary
This closing poem of the book looks past the night to the morning. It says that tomorrow can wait, and that tonight’s job is only to rest.
Tomorrow is “a friend who’s kept the time,” waiting “with a basket full of sunshine.” It is “patient as the sea” and “will not rush the night.” Tonight has “its own duties,” to “hush the world to rest” and “to mend the tired muscles.”
The speaker asks for “the lamps” to be dimmed and “the little clocks” to run down. Whatever “went unfinished” will find “its place in the light that comes with the new day.” The birds and roosters sleep, the rivers rest, and the reader is told, “Close your eyes, dear traveller.”