Poem; To my daughter

[Khedha]

To my daughter
By Michael Moyo

What goes on in that little mind of yours
The only utter is your melodic murmurs
With groans of sporadic complaints
Neither do I understand your burble
I wonder if you hear me calling your name
As your stare with your cherubic eyes
Nor is my mutter a mumble in your ears.

Seeking attention of your mother's milk
Succulent satisfaction of the juices of life
Suddenly the burst of laughter erupts
Shedding the room with warm air of your
Seraphic precious soul's omnipresence
Slowly you slumber in saintly serenity
Sleep my sweet little maiden.

What goes on in your little episode of sleep
With twists and turns as your only posture
I wonder where you go in your dreams
Or maybe your travel back to heaven
You kick like you are still in your womb
When you wake with your devine scent of
Your so soft ethereal and rapturous touch
and every of your drooling kiss.

[Khedha]

Moderate for me please