She can’t speak in words,
But I know what she wants.
The day has grown long.
Little feet yearn for rest.
But she can’t sleep yet.
She needs to find her friend.
“Daddy will help you,”
I say as I get up.
“She must be somewhere.
Let me see where she went.”
We look in her toys.
We look under the chair.
Finally I see her,
laying with the laundry,
A light brown stuffed dog,
Lady without the Tramp,
My daughter’s true love
Joshua A. Woodard
Seahorse Squiggles 
Reblogged this on The Arkside of Thought | Poetry, Philosophy, Politics & Life and commented:
Sweet. Very sweet. 🙂
Love this soooooo much