There is a sprinkle of glitter

On the surface of my coffee.

I consider it Pixie Dust,

Smile to myself

And drink a little magic.

My soup on the stove has a bit of a shimmer;

A random fairy touch I can’t explain.

And she’s asleep in her car seat,

Glitter twinkling on her cheek,

Dreaming little girl dreams,

Guilt free,

she doesn’t care.

Nor is she aware

My heart is tangled in her hair.

Photo by Felix Mittermeier on Pexels.com