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Rated: E · Poetry · Family · #1570239
My nightly ritual of checking on the children before I go to bed.
I creep from room to room
with mouse like skill
not wanting to cause my little angels
to stir.
The forms get smaller with each room I enter.
Diaries go to cars to princesses to rattles.
I kneel beside each bed
closing my eyes to listen
to each long, heavy breath.
Gently, I move each strand away
from their little perfect eyes.
I memorize the way their hair falls on the bed
and across their cheek,
their hands resting next to their face
slightly curled.
I think back and remember them
in my arms so helpless
me as their only world
as they are still mine.
If I could hold them all at once
keeping them safe in my arms from all fear
all hurt
all pain
all loss
If I could keep them all just the way they are now.
Small, smart, imaginative, distinctly different,
innocent..........

© Copyright 2009 Jeanette (babygirl328 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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