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small hour repose

in the small hours of morning
spooky shapes and falling dreams
disturb her angel sleep and

with night-heavy eyes she rises
– yellow blankie in tote –
and stumbles through shadowy

corridors to my bedside. tiny fingers
poke and prod me from my slumber
rousing me unaware and ill-tempered.

with a softhearted voice she stirs my
soul and i lift my covers high; fashioning
for her a tent of peace in which she slides.

huddled against my chest, our lungs
in sync, she falls fast asleep in my
embrace; so tiny, so pure, and now

so safe.

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17 thoughts on “small hour repose

  1. aint it cool, the bestest daddy poems ever…. how could they know the power of their perfect innocent love overpowers and heals all those things we didn’t know needed healing…. it is wonderful to hear the sound of happiness from a father who loves his young daughter so purely…

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