night song to piper finnian willow

The distance from your bedroom door to your bed is about two yards. Max.

I step lightly, working to miss the squeaky boards.

Climbing up the ladder to your bunk, your breathing lets me know you’re already asleep.

I love you.

Brushing the hair from your eyes and gently tucking it behind your ear,

I’ve loved you and your tiny head since first we met.

I swaddled you – burrito style – in your rectangle of a crib.  And I loved you then.

Soft head.  Inch-size appendages.  Squinty eyes.

You were my baby.

You’ve been my girl.

You’ll be my friend.

And I’ll love you always.

Stuffed animals piled by your side. The carnage of your hoarding.

And I love them as well.

You are tiny and beautiful and when you sleep so gently you are my baby again.

Your very life reminds me of the brevity of my own.  The time already spent before I met you.

My Willow.  My lovely Finnian.  My wee daughter.  The last of our girls.

These words.

They are your lullaby.

And you.

Oh, you.

Your blonde spaghetti hair. Your freckles across the bitty bridge of your nose.

All of you.

You are my lullaby.

My song and my poetry.