I dream of tiny fingers touching mine,
A gentle grasp of love and utter trust;
A ruffling of hair so soft and fine,
It could be eiderdown or fairy dust.
I hear a tiny voice as soft as rain,
That whispers precious secrets in my ear;
And later, like the whistle on a train,
Can scream and wake me in the night with fear.
I feel a squirming bundle on my knee,
That wriggles back and forth, to get down deep
Within my arms, and slowly smiles at me,
Then closes wondrous eyes and goes to sleep.
I reminisce when down and feeling stressed,
Remembering how much I have been blessed.
Mick McKellar
January 2016
Some memories are worth revisiting.
Mick
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