Bread of Heaven

The air is wet and thick

like a towel dipped

intinction style

into her  bath water.

I sit to write–

her giggles and splashes,

my accompaniment.

I immerse myself

in the significance of

Bread of Heaven.

All I can remember

is the summer scent of chlorine and sunscreen

in her hair

as she nestled into my side.

Both of us tired from a day of play,

we licked our ice cream cones

in time

and pondered the setting sun.

 

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