You're sucking on your little fingers, all but two of them are curled under. Your tiny and quiet breath is my alarm clock--my heart has grown its own pair of ears, it seems. Nothing and no one else in the room stirs.
No cries just yet. You're bundled up comfortably in a pink blanket, my little caterpillar.
The streetlight creeps in, gently shedding light on the baby powder scented strands of fine hair that are starting to curl up on their own.
At my bedside, I can reach for you now. Before, you were a prayer away and I only saw you with my eyes closed.
It's 4 AM. My eyes feel tired and dry, almost sore (they open for you, anyway). They used to feel this way for other reasons.
I know joy now.
1 day ago
3 comments:
precious.
You write well Sophie
Love this poem for your daughter, Sophie... You express yourself so well! Have you thought of making your blog into a book for Mirabel for later? Thank you for sharing :o) Happy Days ((HUGS))
Tracy and Ali: Your comments are very sweet, thank you.
Tracy: I decided to start a blog where I write her letters :).
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