Saturday, July 9, 2011

The adoration

You hold him aloft
to hear his squeals
of delight and familiar games
and world seen from above.

His laugh fills the room
like a warm breeze
or butterfly wings fluttering
or an embrace on waves of sound.

His golden curls glow brightly
against the deep teal
of the vaulted ceiling,
a cherubic halo before a frescoed Venetian sky.

He smiles and laughs again
and you praise his perfect toddler charm
and scrumptious disposition
as he drops a silky, shimmering rope of drool


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