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The pulse of freedom

There is a sight I hold dear. A misty morning, a grey veil, green hills in the background, lush and abundant. On the fore, at about 100 feet...

Saturday, April 20, 2013

Rainbow Dreams


The tuck tuck
Typing hands
Worked feverishly
Raced against the time.
She knew the work
Would be but halted
Once he woke up.
But wake up he did
And his morning wail
(The first among
What would be many)
Paused her rhythm.
She scooped him up
In one arm
And continued typing
With the other
While the nursling
Snuggled against her warmth
And fell asleep again.
Her rhythm broke again
Only this time
It was to wonder
What rainbow dreams
Greeted him?

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4 comments:

  1. BoApril 20, 2013 at 8:19 PM

    Such a sweet story!

    ReplyDelete
  2. Amanda TroughtApril 27, 2013 at 9:32 AM

    This is beautiful, reminds me of when my son was small, oh so many years ago (he's 17 years now)!

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Whispering ThoughtsApril 27, 2013 at 7:09 PM

      Thank you so much Amanda. Kids will be kids forever to mothers, won't they? I thought of my sister with her two young ones aged 7 and 2 when I wrote this.

      Delete

Since every thought is a seed, I am looking forward to a delicious harvest.

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