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Dec 2016
Softer than cotton, standing on the toilet seat
laughing as I touch your bald head.
Hot, prickled by the razor’s touch, you rub
your stubbled cheek on my tiny face,
I squeal - missing baby teeth on show.
Lifted down and warmed up, pyjamas on and teeth brushed,
a bedtime story and guesses at what will happen next.
Tucked in and lights off, I am blind to your eyes, their tiredness,
the nights after you’ve worked through the day,
ready to come home and drink lemonade
or hot chocolate, made in the pan,
sipping sweetness and sleeping without worry.
The night shift is always on, between fixing machines
and bedtime prayers at little feet.
Warmer than summer. Smooth as velvet.
Softer than cotton.
Martha O'Brien
Written by
Martha O'Brien  UK
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