Sleep the sleep of the innocent and the just. Your eyelashes rest against your plump cheek, and your mouth, in rest, slips out of its normal smile into gentle lines. What hills are you climbing in your dreams? I hope you are rolling down endless slopes, feeling the grass, no prickles there, flutter against your face. How many treetops have you kissed as you survey the view from the highest branches, the bark rough against your fingers and the leaves whispering their own tune in your ears?
How many animals' fur have you twisted wet with your tears, and brushed with your whispers? Heard the warm hum of purring in your ears and the murmur of unconditional love in your ears? How many wonderful adventures have you had?
Sleep little one, sleep and dream...