87 of 719

by Linda Batey

Blonde silken strands slipping through my fingers
As her eyelids droop, fighting sleep;
"Sing to me, Nana." a sleepy voice, her eyes dreamy,
Her thumb working her rosebud mouth
Sleepy, but not willing to give up the day.

I kiss her nose, still scented of her bath.
"Will you still be here tomorrow?"
Her voice barely a whisper in the crisp sheets.
I smile a murmur into the warmth of her neck,
Pulling her close, wishing I could pull her closer;
"I will, my sweet; come wake me when you get up."

She nods, so gently it would take a Nana to see,
And closes her eyes, finally willing to give up the day.

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Poetry: Love expressed

by Linda Batey

Poetry: Love expressed

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