Friday, March 13, 2009

Are these dishes really from breakfast?

Dishes from breakfast,
Food stuck tight;
Sticky hands touch the windows,
Just cleaned that last night.

Tiny little pieces,
strung all across the room.
"God protect the baby,"
who knows what he's consumed.

Then I lay on the floor,
look into their eyes.
Hear pure little laughter,
get a foot in my thigh.

The years go by quickly,
Those little dimples will fade.
Like a bird, they will fly,
Help me see the blessings this day.

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