We would be tucked into our twin beds,
and dad would sit in the door way.
Every night, he’d tell us a story about a boy
and a girl who were very much
like my brother and me, only they lived
amongst the dinosaurs. I don’t remember
how the stories went, but I remember
how I loved them, how my father’s voice
became part of the night, how everything
always turned out right for the kids
in the story. How much I wanted
to be that girl who rode on a pterodactyl,
and how grateful I felt to be the girl I was,
snug under the thin blue blanket,
our small room a cave where anything
could happen, the low tones of my father
quietly cradling me toward sleep.
If a poem can be a hug, this one is. Sharing!
Laura, thank you. big hugs to you, if words can be hugs, xo
Rosemerry, today I featured your blog on my own website. On Sundays I have a feature called “Try a new blog.” I hope some new readers d is over your work 🙂
wow, thank you, friend! I will go check it out! Thanks, Rachel!
What a beautiful, heartwarming memory you have depicted here, Rosemerry! Stories and love mingling as one. Lovely! 😊❤