Sunday, May 1, 2011

Apple of my eyes

Cuddled in my arms
eyes closed
in puerile snores
and faint whispers
sleeps my little one
I lend a gaze
in blessed grace
I see myself
so much in him
I run my fingers
through his silky locks
the envy of many mothers
wavy and sweat stained
from playing truant
the entire day
exhausted, spent
now, he sleeps
in beauty
even in slumber
I am lost gracing
the youthful charms
every day you grow
and I see myself in you
in you lies my everything
You are the apple of my eyes
May all good things come your way

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