My breathing trickles,
Slow.
Slow.
Slower,
Like a faucet recently shut off.
My depth relaxed, lips gently parted.
The thump thump of small feet,
Move awkwardly in the dark.
Fingers tap my bare shoulder, twice.
I hear her sleepy voice ask me again tonight.
“Mama, may I please sleep here?”
I pull over the peach colored comforter,
As she wraps herself up peering at me with
Eyes darker than a Hershey bar.
As I murmur stories of my youth,
It fuels middle of the night belly laughs.
Soon, our eyes become heavy,
Like a weight on a fishing line.
The sound of a wrinkled thumb popping into her mouth, like a lollipop.
And then snoring.
In my king size bed,
One small corner has been bequeathed to me.
As she sleeps soundly in the middle,
Snuggled up next to me.
Poet's Corner 