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 the 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.
3 comments :
I've been admiring the words you've been writing for decades, now. I am so thankful fo you and your family and this blog.
Thank you, Sarah. Your encouragement means a lot, all of it. And considering I still remember poems you submitted to The Lanthorn, I'd love to see any words you might still put anywhere in the Internet ether!
Hopefully she will know hello for some of the other girls.
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