29
Dec
08

Fresh Baked

My daughter sleeps

With grunting

Noises

Coming from her room,

As she twists

And wriggles

In her bed-

Becoming entangled

In her soft, fuzzy blanket.

**

I’ve got music

Playing

In the background

And

A glass of Port

In reach

And a head

Full

Of random parental

Thoughts and worries.

**

The air is full

With the aroma

Of freshly baked cookies

Because

You can’t have Christmas without baking something.

She’ll awake

Tomorrow

To the lingering smell

And will be

Thrilled

When she sees

The cookie

In her lunch box-

“My daddy baked it!”

**

As I head to bed,

I’ll stop

In her room

And untangle

The soft, fuzzy blanket

And kiss her forehead.

Like I do every night.

Timothy Vance Jackson

12/28/2008

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