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Rusty Broadspear

God bless, sleep tight little warrior.
With tiny curled hands that daily search mischief,
Whilst retaining implausible innocence in slumber.
In you, I see your Mother and another - maybe me,
Maybe you.

Behind squeezed eyes is a brightly lit playroom
Where Jesus watches your antics with a smile.
You take Him gifts, a frog and a ball of string.
In His hand they are ice cream in a glass with a spoon.

Snug and secure, smelling of warmth and purity.
Ruffled hair, lick of the lips, sigh of contentment
And a slight stir. In mists of dreams, it seems to
This boy that time has paused for play.

Hey boy - luv ya kid. A time worn hand
Brushes his forehead
And in the playroom the boy shares his ice cream.
The bedroom door quietly clicks shut.
Good night boy - the World needs you.

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