Tuesday

Nap is over


I know the creak on the floor upstairs
I know the step stool I painted purple plaid
has been pushed over beneath
the light switch
I know, on her tippy toes,
arm reaching
her pointer nudging the toggle ‘on’
I know her basket of toys, plastic plates, cups become alive again
and in the white light
I know she is cradling her doll,
wrapped in a blanket

dancing her little mother songs
of roses and snowflakes,
her music blends my days one to another
until they become a delightful perfume
making sweet this sip of motherhood

I place my glass on the counter
I hear her steps upon the stairs

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