Wed. 1:43AM

Father & Daughter
When the sky melts, swirls from sweet blues
to a seasoned plate of fruits and spices
When the soothing whispers of clouds
ease the Sun gently down, down to its
watery fantasies beneath a blanket of sky and sea
It's during this magikal dance of hues
as the moon frees from days vises
and cools the fire with silky shrouds
and stars peek out from behind fine slits
in the drapes that close as the dancers bow and flee
I hold my own miracle close to my chest
and wonder as I feel her tiny hands gripping
if she had seen the dancers in their jest
if she even cared that the Sun was slipping
But she worried not about the stars or sky
or of the whispering clouds that passed her by
Her only care was beneath her head
as she held my shirt and listened close
My singing heart and the words it said
were the things my baby loved the most