Sweet Repose

Late at night while the darkness falls upon our sleeping home like a newly overturned blanket cool and calming upon my skin. The heat of the day is gently pushed away, as  I walk about my house enjoying the quiet. Only the softest whisper of peaceful slumber, sways though the empty hallways, as though the walls have forgotten the shrikes of laughter, cries of childish anger, and sobbes of injustice, of the faces pressed against its corners.The floors remember not the sound of little feet shuffeling, pattering, and stomping, atop its flat hard surface. I as well set aside the sounds of the day, the stress and frustration  slipping off my shoulders, falling down among the unremembered reasons of my childrens arguments. How could I remain untouched by the angelic forms now silent in sweet repose? I can not, I place my hand upon thier warm heads,even now feeling thier innocet trust coursing through the tips of my fingers, strait into my heart. I speak a murmered prayer of thanks giving, and ask God in his wisdom to somehow make Craig and I worthy to giude thier tender minds ever towards him.