lousy poet

17 Mar

Most of you don’t know it, but I write a few poems. OK–so none of you knew it. I’ve decided to share one here and there with the bartblogosphere.

So here’s the first ever installment. I wrote it this morning after Zoey climbed into bed with us–again…

(c) Winterhouse

Tiny Feet Touching
(to Zoey)

“Daddy,” she cries as I jump from my sleep
Squint through the dark to see her by my bed.
Lift her and groan–she climbs over my chest
And wiggles in tight, head to head.

“My blankie!” my left hand feels ’round on the floor
Find it and tuck her in fast.
Wiggle and turn and snuggle in tighter
I wonder how long it will last.

Try wrapping one arm all up around her
Can’t will her to lie her head still.
Glance at the clock, numbers glowing in red
Have a couple more hours to fill.

“Back to sleep, baby,” and tickle her tummy
Just as I grow tired by this chore.

Then as my patience begins wearing thin
She tosses and turns ’round once more.

I give her more room, moving close to the edge
She lies on her side facing me.
Then just as quickly as this whole mess got started
She relaxes and sleeps peacefully.

She finds her safe haven by comforting touch
As she rests her right foot on my thigh.
No snuggles, no holding, just that tiny foot’s sole
And her breath like a breeze past my eye.

To seek life’s great pleasures by mountain or plane
Would seem such a great waste of time.
When all that I need is that tiny foot touching
and knowing this moment is mine.

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Posted by on March 17, 2007 in etc.


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