Small cold hands <br />Struggle to get under my shirt <br />To my explosive objections! <br />Yet you tear me down <br />With a needy glance <br />A wanting look I have never seen before. <br />Your shape disappears with those <br />Sad blue eyes following <br />Me out the door, <br />Down the driveway <br />With a sad regretful smile. <br /> <br />Go to sleep little one, <br />Soon the sun will <br />Scratch the eastern trees. <br />Coffee pots will fill, <br />A new day will trudge forth; <br />With it tired eyes <br />Sandpaper tongues <br />Creaking floors <br />And work to be done. <br /> <br />Blow hard into your cupped hands. <br />Steam whooshes through them like a <br />Locomotive from old times. <br />One day my shirt, and all the <br />Wrinkled warmth it contains will be gone. <br />Will that regretful smile?<br /><br />Matty Reynolds<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/small-cold-hands/
