Olivia fell asleep
On my chest,
Snoring through her little
Nose,
Cozy in her
White dress,
Drawing attention
Without even trying.
We love to stop and look
At innocence.
It feels rare
And is captured so perfectly
In the feather-down hair
On a baby’s head –
In long soft lashes
And closed eyes.
Look today, though,
For the sleeping infant
Inside your own heart.
Innocence is not forgotten,
Only abandoned.
You still have the chance
To take her in
Your arms.
HT


