Softly. On tiptoe I creep. Across his room; Each step takes an eternity. His bedside lamp glows a pale yellow illuminating the halo atop his head. And there, lying beside him our old pal Max, distressed because tonight (yet again) he will not sail in and out of weeks to visit A Land That Has Been Forgotten.
Book replaced on shelf, I gaze upon my little cherubim soft pudgy cheeks, bright red, still moist. His eyebrows wrinkle gravely as he dreams a mommy- less dream. I try to swallow, but the clump of sand is dry grainy, creating tiny abrasions down my throat. A sob escapes his angelic lips. Still asleep, he moans, "You Promised!"
Published April 27, 2019 on the Ancient Paths website.