Baby, baby, mannikin in the crib, there is something pulling us together closer than a stitch. Your sweet echo sweats 5 a troubled double of semi-sweet me; my chocolate loves, mutable as kittens, melt and glove the powerful applause of your hands. How primly they're mittened, 10 black as a glum executioner's greased thumb. The invisible stitch cinctures us nearer. Vast spaces dissipate. Nearer, your small sound 15 leaps bandages, muffled in good wishes, exits you loud as a cloud. Jade baby, green at the gills and undoubtably drowned, my red ears are still ringing. Your eyes 20 pause astonished, pure as pins in their clogged knob of dough. Mild child, your tiny attentions suspend me like a marionette not quite yet half-across 25 this bridge you have built between us.
From the collection "Hymns"
Written by Gregg Glory [Gregg G. Brown]
More information available on gregglory.com.