Golden Curls

He raised upon his toes to sneak another look at her.
The golden curls did shine within the phosphorescent light.
The glint inside the folds did play a quiet game of peek-a-boo.
He held that pirouette just like a soldier standing post.
The nurse did shoe the boy away seven times or more.
Still, the boy sought out his post at least a dozen more.

The quiet voice of such a boy did whisper through the room,
“Don’t ever let a time go by where I will not remember this.”

The voice of one who’s clad in white spoke behind his ear.
“Hush my child. Still your tongue. We must not wake her up.
Now off with you and onto bed or I will tan your hide.”
Off he shot just like a blur. Yet, he still thought of her.
Time moved on just two small marks. The darkened house was ready.

Bleary eyed and clad in sweats, the brown haired boy did wake.
He kicked his ball out of the way and peered out frozen glass.
The full white moon did shine alright, but donned an eery glow.
It felt just like the hand of doom was coming in for them.
Then and there he felt his sweat cast from a nasty dream.
And off he shot with fear and dread to stand his normal post.

He used his strength to raise right up and sneak another look.
The curls did shine, but not so much as gray took hold of her.
Thunder boomed within his ears as horror took his face.
When finally he did catch his breath, he loosed a primal scream.

In a flash, the heavy nurse was here to see what trouble brewed.
Shock and terror grabbed her face, yet only for a moment.
All her training kicked right in and she began to work.
Hands were blurred and movements too as she performed her tasks.

With voices chilled and machines worked up, the sullen boy looked on.
Work was done by expert hands, but nothing could be changed.
The golden curls that shinned so bright lost their glint completely.
All looked on with heartfelt tears, as another light snuffed out.

Without a word the quiet boy jumped into the crib.
He picked her up and held her tight and rocked her too and fro.
Giant hands so filled with tears tried to pull him back.
With duty clear. He would not budge. He would not let her go.

The eery light from the full white moon shinned through frozen glass.
Then something stirred, and darkened curls once again did glow.
The quiet voice of such a boy did whisper through the room,
“I read the book and prayed the prayer, and waited for His voice.
And now the touch of relentless love has saved a darkened soul.”

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