My child, I am in love
with watching you.
Your sleeping face on my knee
as I sit cross-legged and type away.
Your bleached seashell ears, delicately smoothed
to soft intricacy.
Those full, berry-stained lips
that will whisper secrets
with the fattest lusty breath.
The ruffled hair.
The sunset-lit cheeks.
That beauty.
That perfection.
But the parts I love best of you
my sweet, lush child
are your closed and sleeping eyes.
Your lids are etched with a dozen lines
telling your fortune in dark red-blue
while you dream on their other side.
My Rorschachs, I see rays of sunshine,
lightning in the afternoon,
water trickling to delicate roots.
Cracked masterpieces,
Pressed rose petals,
Road maps that lead away from me....
so many stories could be told
by those etched wine-colored trails.
Your breath grows bigger
and the sounds of your dreams rise up to me.
Sleep, baby.
I can see inside of you
and it's all fine.

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All works on this site Alicia Bayer unless otherwise noted.
Don't take it - that would be rude.