Visiting at my daughter’s home in Denver recently, tensions always rose each night when the time for the twins’ bedtime approached.
And although they seem to be starting to adjust to their ‘plight’ each night, one or the other still seems to ‘fight’ going to bed, in her own way.
Grabbing a blanket and holding close to a chair, a strong defense of crying is applied in rhythmic surges toward the rule ‘enforcers’…. in hopes of weakening their demands….and of course, to no avail. In the end, though, they both got serenaded to sleep by grandpa.
“No Bed, Grandpa”
In stare through moistened, reddened eyes
having wiped away her tears,
she sends her ‘arrows’ in disguise
in stare through moistened, reddened eyes.
They pierce the heart not by surprise
with sweetened vengeance that coheres
in stare through moistened, reddened eyes
having wiped away her tears.
Holding her blanket against her cheek
leaning against the chair,
she glares defiantly; her eyes bespeak.
holding her blanket against her cheek.
My heart is wavering in heightened beat,
still captured by her stare
holding her blanket against her cheek
leaning against the chair.
Saying ‘I love you’ with poignant heart,
I let my ‘arrows’ fly,
whose sting doth make my love impart
saying ‘I love you’ with poignant heart.
“No bed, grandpa,” is the difficult part
in the tears of a four year old’s cry….
saying ‘I love you’ with poignant heart,
I let my ‘arrows’ fly.
© copyright 2013 t. j. gargano