Her and Stella Artois
She says the Stella grows slowly,
Tugs on her gently,
Taps on her shoulder,
Creeps up on her undetected.
When I turned on the lights
The Stella protested.
It didn’t like anything brighter
Than a star on a cloudy day.
I knew it was close to the end of the night for them.
I coaxed them both to bed,
Let her to lean on my arm,
Pulled up the blankets,
Listened to her the Stella retell her stories,
Until sleep took her into her arms
To care for her the rest of the way.