Somehow Othello-an I gently breeze the dawn exclaiming that if indeed it were now to die then most happy I would be.
I grasp this notion as I hold dear my child, close to mé in a punch-drunk embrace.
Her proclamations of an hour before have subsided.
The carpet demon subdued, lured now into my arms,
She finally succumbs to dreams, only thought of by adults, realised plainly in the minds of young children.
Maybe there there be dragons too! ensnaring the barest of innoncence,
giving creedance to the horrors of nighttime and loneliness:
maybe beyond all the notion of things soft and fluffy, the furious truth is a scaly opponent.
The early líght shafts in through the window, sheening the room to create my reflection.
I note the brighter side of mé, I see a vision of this moment.
In truth I can now say, that I have sung my child here back to sleep
and in so doing have fulfilled a dream I had never even thought of;
perhaps this is the essence of fatherhood.