Small Stone 1/8

It takes a while for her to settle, for the wiggles to subside, but slowly she succumbs to the comforts of a hug and a heater blanket, and then she's asleep in my arms, like when she was a baby. Her warm breath fogs on my chin, and the faint smell of her Grandma's shampoo lingers on the silken threads of her hair that tickle my nose as I too nod off for a Sunday nap.