We pipe vanilla frosting
On to the top of the
Fairy cakes
Like the way our lines end
It is our finishing touch
Her hands are sticky
But her eyes are alive
We can cope when it is quiet
The big dog scares us
We huddle up in bed
Try not to hear
Its bark
The thumping of its feet
We place the cakes
On a pretty plate
And put the kettle
On the stove for tea
It is almost a ritual
Something simple
With a beginning
And an end
She wipes her hands
On a napkin
I let cool water
Wash my fingers
Splash a little on my face
The cold helps too
The heat makes us sleepy
But there is still a day to go
Before bed
And dreams
The things we like best
Perhaps that is
Our finishing touch
Closing our eyes
Both happy
And sad
That another day
Has passed.
