March 8, 2015

Alan DoyleI look to the left.
My daughter is
bouncing,
dancing to the
enthusiastic beats.
Clapping in time.

A quick flash, memory,
now sustained.

I tear as I recall her
hands on crib rail,rocking to the same
beat, joyous for the movement.
Babe in warm morning pajamas.
Rocking for the joy of it.

©Kathleen Moors

 

 

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