Poorly Girl

I hate it when you’re ill.
My beautiful bouncing girl becomes
Quiet, sad, subdued and hot.
It’s hard to know how to help.
I fill you with medicines
And tell you stories.
You try to smile for me
But your eyes are so sad.
I scoop you up and cuddle you
And I know you feel safe.
Just as I felt safe in my parents’ arms.
I hope it passes quickly.
I want my noisy fireball back.

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This entry was posted in Daily Life, Family, Parent-Child, Parenting, Poems about Children, Relationships and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

8 Responses to Poorly Girl

  1. Cheryl-Lynn says:

    Hope she bounces back soon!!

    Like

  2. It seems to b part and parcel for little ones to get sick. My grandson had his first birthday last Sunday and his mother told me he received tonsilitis for his birthday.

    Like

  3. Somewhere I have a photo of Ken on his second birthday, sitting on the sofa, eyes glazed with fever, clutching his blanket and his bear.

    Like

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