A Word She Knows

At bedtime your names, spoken, act on her
like a two-toned bell on Pavlov's dog.
She waves a small hand,
secure in that fact
she knows best,
and her lips twist
to form a soft 'bye,' which she repeats
a score of times, while my heart
beats an involuntary echo, before
she sinks into the nest I built
of blankets for her rest.