Little Hands

Little hands find their way,
icicles on my skin on cold days.
Little hands rub my arm,
lying next to me, at five am.

Little hands tuck behind her back,
"I do it myself!," no thank you for the help.
Little hands fold up into mine,
we walk down the street, I beam with pride.

Little hands wrap around my neck,
we climb the stairs, sleepy after midday snack.
Little hands point, clap, throw and play,
then tucker out, and in her crib they lay.

Little hands help me cook,
"No, not the knives! but you can take a look."
Little hands create imaginary dishes,
Tea parties at the top of her list.

Little hands thumb through pages,
photo albums of past, she points out faces.
Little hands return to lie on my chest,
Mama reads bedtime books, she does it best.

Little hands reach up for a hug,
goodnight, goodnight, my little Love Bug.

(March 2011- One month old). She is still this size, right?!