The Crib

January 24, 2009
She layed resting on her back,
Moving her toes,
As if it were a paradox ants were trying to maneuver,
In and out from toe to toe.
The slobber leaked,
From her mouth,
As she created objects,
Made of saliva,
Trying to utter words,
But it was only gibberish.
Smacking her hands,
As if she were trying to sing along to a nursery rhyme.
And roll,
She drew a toy towards her mouth.
I began to place a finger,
On her swollen cheeks.
As i realized how soft her skin was,
Soft like dish detergent,
Washed off your hands.
I smiled,
Knowing that she is in a better place.
There was nothing left,
But her scent,
And an empty crib.

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