My Baby, I wish I knew
The things we would talk about are numerous and loud and I hear them constantly rattling in my brain, wishing for an answer. We would chat about your day, what you learned, who your friends are. We would chat about the bruise on your knee and where it came from and if it still hurts. I wish you could tell me what life was like in your world of bright colors and shiny paper and loud noises. How the wind feels when it hits your face or how the grass feels between your toes. Like what about the blinds that makes you so happy? Could it be the way they sway when you grab them or the wisp of sunlight that breaks in that sometimes catches your sweet face? I hear your voice in my dreams and we chat about nothing important but everything important. A few seconds of joy I get, when I dream of you, to then wake up to the real world wondering if that’s the voice you’d have if you could speak. Would it be soft and light? Would it be loud and boisterous? My baby, I wish I knew. I wish you could te
