In the Wee Small Hours of The Morning

Promise

Concentrated heat against my spine
Tiny arm lazily draped over my shoulder,
while
Little fingertips graze my cheek

And then a soft snore.

I am compiling a list
Of reasons to wake up each day
And you are on it

I love the promise that,

No matter what our day is like

At the end of it,
The soft snore
The pocket of heat
The tickle of little hands

Will erase my fear
Quiet my mind
Banish the demons
And give me the will to go on.

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