In My Family
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. . .
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.