Watching her sleeping,
her little chest rising and falling,
eyelids fluttering,
lips softly parted.
Her hands are delicately cupped,
comfortably beneath her chin,
her knees slightly bent.
I’m wondering what she’s dreaming.
Hoping she’s playing with the fairies,
in a meadow full of flowers.
That the sun is shining
and the birds are singing.
She wriggles her toes
as the alarm clock goes.
I feel better when she opens her eyes,
for I’ve missed her as she’s slept.
“Hello Mummy,
I’ve been dreaming about fairies”
she murmurs,
as she stretches, and yawns.
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