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Slippered Toes
He was sober for a change.
Swirling his demons in a smudged glass,
tapping out a song that clung to his ears from the night before,
or maybe it was from ten years ago.
Aching eyes pleading to close,
to return to the silent movies
playing on his eyelids,
slight tremors shaking the screen
as a pair of slippered feet
toddled over
stumbling but determined,
to step on her daddy’s toes.
Little snickers and giggles
that was the song,
that was it.
And little hands,
little hands gripping his like he was the surest thing.
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