Tonight, she smells of hot dogs.
There are dandelion seeds
Nestled in her curly, swirly hair.
She is snoring, slightly,
Dummy drooping, dribbling, from her lips.
Daddy put her to bed, then she sneaked to her wardrobe
(Contents scattered round the room)
And found some gloves, boots, and a tutu,
Which she's wearing, round her knees.
She looks like a faery from a Shakespeare play,
As if she is planning to be painted;
'Portrait of an eccentric toddler'.
For a moment, I contemplate donning a thermal vest, bikini and bandana,
And joining her, in her oddly dressed dreamworld,
Instead, I leave her in her chosen garb
Tuck her in, descend
To my grown up world.
We still pretend, there,
But there's far less dressing up,
Unfortunately.
Oct 11, 2013
Oct 11, 2013 at 4:27 PM UTC
Tonight, she smells of hot dogs.
There are dandelion seeds
Nestled in her curly, swirly hair.
She is snoring, slightly,
Dummy drooping, dribbling, from her lips.
Daddy put her to bed, then she sneaked to her wardrobe
(Contents scattered round the room)
And found some gloves, boots, and a tutu,
Which she's wearing, round her knees.
She looks like a faery from a Shakespeare play,
As if she is planning to be painted;
'Portrait of an eccentric toddler'.
For a moment, I contemplate donning a thermal vest, bikini and bandana,
And joining her, in her oddly dressed dreamworld,
Instead, I leave her in her chosen garb
Tuck her in, descend
To my grown up world.
We still pretend, there,
But there's far less dressing up,
Unfortunately.
