A Valentine to my toddling daughter

“Oh! Who would inhabit this bleak world alone?”

- Thomas Moore, “The Last Rose of Summer” (from Project Gutenberg)

Photo by 🇸🇮 Janko Ferlič on Unsplash Utterly adorable when they bury their head in your shoulder. Mine seems to find it hilarious to keep slipping her little finger up my nostrils if I actually do go to sleep…

Little angel, dear one: if I turn my back to you,
fret no more.
The time to sleep has come, and if you snuggle on my chest
You’ll wind up excavating my nostrils yet again.
That was funny the first time. An hour ago.
I rolled, you clambered up my arm, waded through my shoulder
under the fuzzy blanket
but when you could not find my face, my neck
You wailed, wailed.

Once, I longed for a partner to set my bed on fire,
To rouse every inch of laugh joy warmth owned potency
But for all those years of fantasies, you’re more fun,
Even if your fingers magnetically find my nostrils.
No, seriously, you don’t need to harvest my adam’s apple
While I sleep. I’m too tired to clip your fingernails.
And if the words of your babbling are not sentences
They meander force roaring brook that -
Stop.
I’m tired, you’re tired, just go to sleep
You can amaze me in the morning.