The baby whined and the mother wined: through no fault of his own. They had dreams so big that sleeping could not carry them. His departure, while only temporary, felt like a blanket that would not lift; Peek- a-boo had no ‘Boo’.
Wine filled the most part. Made up nursery rhymes flowed like a lyrical artist but the days would take the exact amount of hours: no fun to make it fly.