Monday, January 21, 2013

Oliver

It had been months 
Since I last saw you
You had just woken from a nap
looked at me as though you were trying to remember how you knew me
your face showed you forgot the fun times we had at your house in bay ridge 
and our trip to the lake house where you fell asleep in my arms as I read your favorite book to you

It wasn't until we broke out your tiny orange trucks that you started to remember
as you giggled violently at my sound effects
We took a tour of your house and you hid in the closet and I had to pretend I didn't know where you had disappeared to
We played music and danced with your tiny maracas and you promised you'd only shake them instead of throwing them into the air

You jumped into my arms and
I lifted you  up in the air and you reached your arms out and 
became a plane soaring through the room until 
we crash landed on the bed and you told me,
 "it's dark outside. it's time for bed" 
and crawled under the sheets

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