The Smell Of Your Breath

I can still remember

how your mother would lay you on my chest

for I do not want to carry you

I just thought you are so delicate

that I might hold you so tight.

So every time you need to sleep

She would call for me

and make me lay down on the crib

a big crib that lolo made,
and put you on my chest. 

How I enjoy every moment we spent

The feel of your breathing chest

The times I feel you wet my chest

But the breath...

Oh that angel's breath...

I may not be your father,

For I am just your mother's brother

But my four buringgoys

You have given me uncomparable joy 

And learn to love you more than myself.

photo courtesy of BlueBell [link] for the Short Story Slam Week 12

FYI: lolo means grandfather for Filipinos.
         My Stepdad would make a crib as big as 5 x 5 feet. 

         buringgoy is not really a name.
         It just came out of my mouth
         as I am singing some made up lullaby
         for my nephews.
         So I started calling all my baby nephews buringgoy.

Part II of my Thanksgiving day Walk is now posted [link]

and My version of the song, I'll Take Care of You (hahaha)
        at my Mis Canciones Blog [link] just for fun...
        a friend requested. Blame her...