TW death (poetry-death, not death-death.)

Sorry for the two tell-me-about-your-kids this week, but this is making me laugh.

SmallBeaver (6) apparently wrote a poem in the dark last night. She came downstairs with it this morning and gave a reading; she was super-proud.

O,
the irreversible sleep,
the irreversible sleep.
O, death!

I should note that she is not depressed again (mercifully) - but is rather a weirdly dark little soul amidst all the sunshine. I am giggling.

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Giggle with me? Tell me about your dramatic children!