"I want to write you a poem," I said.
"Tell me what I should write, what's your favorite thing?"
You gave no reply, sitting in my lap like the yolk of an egg
"Do you want a poem about superheroes or bugs?"
"How about rockets or peanut butter sandwiches?"
Silently watching Ben 10 fight aliens (or something like that), you said nothing.
I stroked your hair.
Your silence was my inspiration.
Here is your poem,
it's about you
and it's about me
and how at 5, you still fit in my lap.
How you make no demands of me,
how you don't need a poem,
how of all the bright and lovely things I could write of in this world,
Your sandy brown hair nestled close to my heart is all the poem we need.