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Butterfly Wings

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Tiny hands and soft feet,
Eyelashes fluttering
Like butterfly wings,
And yawns stopped dead with a pacifier.
Stroking slippery curls with my hands
And steady breaths
Slowing.
I whisper the last line of the story
And her smooth cheek
Settles on my shoulder,
And the eyelashes flutter shut
As we rock to sleep.



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