When my son went to bed,
He smelled like a puppy.
He'd played pirate and chased cottontails
After he'd had his bath.
But sometime in the night,
Quietly, his cells divided.
Tiny bursting neurotransmitters
Swept him clean again.
He's cuddled up with me right now,
As close as he can get to my soul,
And I'd swear he smells like Murphy oil
And the barber's lemon balm.
And in the paleness of the morning,
His face is pure and innocent,
Unreminded of the sins
Of any yesterday.
And I marvel at the darling
And the wonder of his DNA.
Living incarnate
With his own brand of redemption
Is his specialty.
-jenn long
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