Every breathing day you are
so you, there is no guile yet,
no hint of a lie or of half-truth.
You lie on my chest so still
that I can hardly believe
you are alive. But your coming
into being, your being alive,
has brought us so much joy.
For once, we brim with life;
its static runs through us
and through this house.
We are ecstatic at your being –
there is a quiet benediction
in the newly-minted everyday
now that you are in it.
Trying to brush sunlight
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