holding Simone.

Tiny, unknowingly serene,

curled up unaware of and inside the world,

dreaming voice tucked inside her sleeping eyes and curled fists.

Baby three month old girl.

You are resting like a rose on the water, little girl,

so light that I can hardly feel your weight at first,

teetering on translucent, you weigh so little.

Little sonatina growing into a sonata so effortlessly.

Curling eye lashes, beauty unforced, sans truculence

trusting that the world around you is safe and sighing,

your diaphragm expands in a tiny burst:

                                               as the syntax of sleep dictates.