My Youngest child Sleeps

My child sleeps
Her eyelashes settle slowly closed,
like a butterfly landing on her perch.
Her breath slows and
gains a revealed cadence.
Her curls are wild upon her pillow,
the low light muting the colors
to a shadowy shade.
Quick wit hides behind
her closed eyes,
and quips of “Right, Mom?”
are suggestive echoes in the walls.
No stomping feet grace my hall,
nor screams or screeches of horse language
penetrate the earscape of my home.
The quiet and excited confidence
is stowed away
beneath flickering lids
and grinding teeth.
Her loving heart is
now resting
in repose.


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