Again, again 17/12/25

Dec 17, 2025
1 min read

Sunday's

I'm gaming inexpertly,

all hands and no thumbs.

She's four blankets deep,

asleep with a dragon.

The air is warm with lamplight.

She sniffles, the nest shifting,

a hand appears, is clasped,

and fetches a smile.

It's Sunday and it's late,

endings are catching trains,

but not for now,

minutes are forever yet.

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