Her tiny palm
Looks even tinier when in mine
So delicate and fragile
Like antique lace
And porcelain tea cups
Every move makes me think
You’re going to shatter in
My rough worker arms
But you need a worker Daddy
Right, little baby?
Those thin, puckered lips
Need food
And those tiny little toes
Will one day need shoes
Right little jelly bean?
Your mom made me wash my hands
Even clean the dirt under my nails
And change my overalls
Before touching you
Oh look, you squirm into my chest
And find my heart
And lay so closely beside it
That I feels yours too
Like goose bumps
Little goose bump breathes
That tell me
Yes, I’m fine with a worker daddy
I need a worker daddy
About the Creator
T. Licht
I have a love for words and a love to share them.
Well then, enjoy and thank you for taking the time to read this and maybe if you want subscribe;)
Muses & Musings
Welcome to my new series, a weekly blog on what’s inspiring me. I spent much of last week in bed with a stomach bug. I’ll spare you the details of that—but in addition to the grotesque physical symptoms, I had some fever dreams I won’t soon forget. Imagine my surprise to see Vocal’s newest challenge: Write a fiction story about a recurring dream or nightmare.
By Davina Zinn McKee7 days ago in Journal
Comments (1)
LOVELY!! Perfect photo for your wonderful poem. 💕