down the hall to check
on the baby.
she's asleep
in her crib,
swaddled in pink,
the mobile gently moving
above her
head.
she's safe, at least for now.
i suppose she's dreaming,
whatever
babies dream about
with so little to go on.
i'd like to keep her this way,
innocent and
unburdened
by what lies ahead.
i'll rock beside her, staring
at the walls
with the moon
looking down,
straddled by
the black and white cow.
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