Page 173 of Unspoken Words

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“Don’t ‘shush’ me.”

Connor cleared his throat and began to hum a melody.

Strawberry hair, sweet kisses

Breathe in and count my wishes

I reach out, touch your skin.

It’s not a dream

This is real

It’s not a dream

My girls, my life,

My daughter, my wife,

You own my heart

You are my world

You are my girls

My girls

Tiny hands, tiny toes

Your mother’s eyes and button nose

I reach out, touch your skin.

It’s not a dream

This is real

It’s not a dream

My girls, my life,

My daughter, my wife,

You own my heart

You are my world

You are my girls

My girls

His voice was the sweetest lullaby, but like I did with every song he wrote, I edited it … because I could.

“How do you know she has my eyes and button nose?”

“I just do.”

“She might have your nose.”

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