“To Robert Louis Stevenson”


By Rebecca Berg



In nightly trysts we met beneath my covers.


You talked of climbing trees, friendly cows,

Apple tarts and swinging, oh, so high.

We explored the land of counterpane,

My flashlight blazing in the dark.

We journeyed in your little boat down the rivers brown,

And walked along your winding country paths.


And when my flashlight dimmed, I kept you by my side,

Your words still glittering in my mind

As we drifted, every night, into your Land of Nod.