Lullabies Don’t Have To Be Songs

by Katie Ford

It was a dance fit for the end of the day. He clasped his mother’s fingers gently in his porcelain palm. Sticky. His four-year-old cheeks were pinched with a curled rustiness. With one last 1-2-3 jump she swung him into her arms, and folded them both onto the soft bed. As she breathed in the coconut from his hair, her eyes began to burn.

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Katie Ford lives, works, writes and loves in the East of England. Her work (published and un-) and her irregular blog can be seen archived here.