To Juliette, six years old
by Chelsea Muir
I've been meaning to thank you
for those Friday afternoons
when you fell asleep in the backseat of my car.
I carried you as quickly as I could,
as gently as I could, up the stairs,
your head on my shoulder,
your eyes stirring but not opening.
Holding you and your dreams
was like rain after a long dry season,
like the whisper of wildflowers
and new promises to be kept.