Thursday, January 22, 2009

The sweet smell of love

She calls for me when she wake up, my daughter, and she will accept no other

The shade pulled, curtain down letting slivers of light cut through to the darkness

She is lying beneath a pile of jumbled blankets, knitted for her and sewn for me and given to us

A patchwork of love and thought

I reach to pull her to me, her slight weight pulling me towards her

And I bury my face in her sweet hair

The soft sweaty creases of her neck

And smell the ever-so magically sweet scent that her own body has

Strawberry Chapstick

The exact smell

Though I have not had it for years

Every single morning, and every nap she ever took

Strawberry chapstick

What a sweet smell my baby has

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