Tonight was the first night we slept together
soft and warm
and only 4 years old.
Her mouth spins the spectrum as her body dreams,
stealing an absolutely impossible amount of covers.
She shouts angrily against the green and slanted night
slaps my book with a drowsy hand,
lonely in her dreams
she pushes at the papery insomnia
and laughs so hard I can see all of her teeth,
Whispers in words too dream-shaped to decipher.
When her morning voice prods me into waking
her eyes are rounder than two chocolate moons.