baby

Always remember

/ Fran Haley / 27 Comments

a bit of palindrome written to a picture worth much more than a thousand words,
maybe even a thousand infinities, to me

Always
remember how much you’re loved
my child
and child of
my child
remember how much you’re loved
always.

My oldest son and his baby girl, Micah.
He named her. Micah means “Who is like God?”
Answer: No one, no one, no one…

But the steadfast love of the LORD is from everlasting to everlasting on those who fear him, and his righteousness to children’s children… Psalm 103:17

*******
with thanks to Two Writing Teachers for the Slice of Life Story Challenge every day in the month of March.

Palindrome poem

/ Fran Haley / 22 Comments

with thanks to Susan Ahlbrand who honored today’s date (2-22-22) by inviting participants to write palindrome poems on Ethical ELA’s Open Write.

Yesterday was a day off for my district. My son brought my little four-month-old granddaughter over for a visit. I wanted to write about these sweet, sweet moments…

Moments with Micah

I would make time stand still
to savor you more
to marvel at the miracle
of your existence
(your dad says 
he still can’t believe
you are real).


Every day
you are changing
growing in size 
knowing in your eyes
so wonderfully made
rose-satin skin
tiny sweet hands
gripping
my heart.

My heart
gripping
tiny sweet hands
rose-satin skin
so wonderfully made
knowing in your eyes
growing in size—

you are changing
every day.

You are real.

He still can’t believe, 
your dad says
of your existence.

To marvel at the miracle
to savor you more
I would make time stand still.

with thanks also to the weekly Slice of Life Story Challenge writing community; writers need places to call home.

Baby’s breath poem

/ Fran Haley / 8 Comments
Sleeping child

Today’s poem is a response to Michelle H. Barnes’ “These Are the Hands” challenge on Today’s Little Ditty: “Consider writing about the place that empathy has in your own life—a time you offered compassion to another or a time it was freely given to you.”

Freely given … this is the first thing that comes to mind. Adapted from a post I wrote three years ago.

He wakes—that sound.

That rasp.—Is it?

It is.

He traces it to the crib.

The baby. Just three months old.

Not breathing right.

Hand to her little face—no fever.

She stirs under his touch, still sleeping.

Breath ragged, rattling.

He is young.

It is his first child.

He goes back to bed.

But

he carries his baby with him.

Lies awake all night

with her beside him

making sure

she still breathes.

-She does.

Long after he does not.

*******

Thank you

for all the nights

you watched over me

when asthma attacked,

Daddy.

Photo: Angel1. peasap. CC BY