Lullabys and Dreams

I should have been knitting at naptime (there was a sock calling me, waiting for some attention, hoping to get longer . . . ). But I was compelled to sit there in the dark with the soft sounds of a lullaby playing over the rhythmic whir of a fan. Naptime. Quiet time. All those little babes asleep. Each and every little angel is somebody's baby--not always perfect, but lovable just the same. A little person.

If only I could have laid down to close my eyes too, if only to join them briefly in slumber . . . alas, I could not.

So, breathe deeply.

Listen to the white noise.

Peacefully content.

Quiet contemplation.

Lost in a moment, in a thought . . .

Stop to enjoy the silent interlude.