'eyes and nose … fingers and toes'

She sing-songs softly

touching lightly

the baby folded in her arms:

a feather of feeling

like moths upon a flower;

caress of sound -

the sough of gentle wind.

 

Cooing and smiling

they play with each other.

Nothing in the world

more beautiful

than that tiny mouth

those bright eyes -

the pressure of response

with its silken hand.

 

She smiles at the man

across the room

watching them

sharing her delight.

She takes the little fist

and presses it to her lips.

'I lov..............'

And the bomb hits!