At Bed Time…

After I have collected

Mortal fingers and toes

Wrapped in cotton

Bathed, smoothed down

Deeply breathing

Faint wisps of

day time energies

and ever so slightly

nestled in these

undeserving arms

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growing older that I

should recognize as mine.

They both look like me,

of that there is no

perjured witness.

 

Pointed nose that,

 

Lacking arch and rounded

Bulbous, points its

Finger at me.

Flaxen colored haired

Waves to me as I carry

Them up the creaking stairs.

Treasures come in all shapes

 

And sizes,

Some planned,

Others surprises

Valuable determined

By how much pain

Joy, buckets full of laughter

Handfuls of tears…

These are my treasures

Enfolded in aging arms…

Blessed.

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