Saturday, December 26, 2009


She's so beautiful,

As she lies awkwardly curled into restless sleep.

She twists strangely

And scrunches up her eyes,

Only to fall asleep again with her mouth slightly open.

Her soft, messy hair

Tangles into a halo above her,

As she sleeps, so serene

So solidly human-

My daughter.

She is alive-

I spun her,

Out of faintly glimmering

Gold and bronze ethereal sand.

She is laughing,

Every movement magnified

Into something celestial, yet entirely real.



When she sleeps,

She lets her face sag into its natural craggy beauty.

Her arms around me slacken slowly,

Her tight, protecting embrace lessens,

And thuds abruptly into exhaustion.

Photographs never do her justice

They never capture her loud belly laugh

That she find so easily from the depth of her being,

Her crinkly smile when I say something silly,

Or her eyes when she is sad.

Her hand slackens its grip on mine

Her bulky form

Made an eerie, shapeless ghost by her sheet,

Shifts gently

As I wonder,

Whether she knows how much I love her.

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