Long-lashed eyes,shut in sleep.
Tiny body, curled into my lap.
Is this the destructive imp
Who's broken the window blinds,
Smeared cake all over his high chair,
Who's peeled a banana
Then eaten it sideways,
All mushy in his hands?
His new words,
Often parroting his older sister,
But getting clearer all the time...
They whisper themselves in the ears of my memory
As I look down on the little waif,
The glow of whose halo of innocence
Sheds its gentle light on me
As I sit in the dark room
Having sung, and rocked
The little one to sleep.