Sunday, 2 March 2014

She Sleeps In Beauty

Her Majesty has not been keeping well. A host of minor ailments have joined forces against Her.

Cartoons fail to cheer Her up. Song-&-dance routines, which She normally responds to rather enthusiastically, don't work. Nursery rhyme videos don't impress. Dinner is a disaster.

She deigns to be carried by Her humble and faithful minion. Ten minutes and three lullabies later, She is spent and fast asleep.

And the world, all of God's creation, has shrunken into that one infinite moment: a tiny fist clutching my finger, a plump little hand around my neck, and a small head crowned by damp, curly hair resting on my shoulder.