I burrow
into Mama's side,
into her scent,
into her warmth.
I focus
on her voice
as she reads
the words,
as she shares
the story
in her
special
Mama-storytelling-voice.
The characters
play out their parts
in my mind,
my imagination
fills in
all the details
the author left out.
I rest my eyes,
hypnotized
by
Mama's soothing tone
and
story.
The next thing I know
it is morning
with the sound
of
the dishwasher
being emptied
and
the smell
of
Dad's coffee
filtering
through my covers.
The bedtime story
from last night
lingers
in my mind,
an aftertaste
of
my dreams.
©2011, Bridget Magee