What do good "readers" do? PART II: Because some things look better in poetry

In my family,

I talk. Daddy hugs.

I dance. Mommy kisses.

I cry. They sing.

I smile. They sleep. We dream.

In my family.

When I talk my words are strings

that tie me up in Daddy’s arms.

When I dance my heartbeats are wings

that softly wrap round Mommy’s touch.

But when I cry my tears don’t fall,

but evaporate in melodies.

In my family,

I talk. Daddy hugs.

I dance. Mommy kisses.

I cry. They sing.

I smile. They sleep. We dream.

In my family.

When I smile my eyes are bright,

like stars awake after the rain.

But when they sleep their faces alight,

called by soft fires of dreams to be.

And then we dream, our breaths winds

that push us towards what’s yet to see.

In my family,

I talk. Daddy hugs.

I dance. Mommy kisses.

I cry. They sing.

I smile. They sleep. We dream.

In my family.

When I smile my eyes glow

as candles lit on winter nights.

But when they sleep their faces show

just warmth wrapped in their love for me.

And then we dream, our breaths winds

that whisper words, just these three.

I love you.

I love my family.

In my family,

I play. Grandpa hugs.

I read. Auntie kisses.

I cry. They sing.

I smile. They sleep. We dream.

In my family.

When I play imagination brings

stories told in Grandpa’s hands.

When I read visions young and old

sweetly appear on Auntie’s lips.

But when I cry my tears don’t fall,

but evaporate in melodies.

In my family,

I play. Grandpa hugs.

I read. Auntie kisses.

I cry. They sing.

I smile. They sleep. We dream.

In my family.

When I smile my eyes glow

as candles lit on winter nights.

But when they sleep their faces show

just warmth wrapped in their love for me.

And then we dream, our breaths winds

that whisper words, just these three.

I love you.

I love my family.

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