There was a sticky train
of sweet apple sauce,
starting in the kitchen
and making craters down the hallway;
not so clean,
this getaway.
Smeared under the door
as it was opened
and again closed.
Trailed across the newly polished
hardwood floor.
The fruit ended at his bed,
a dirty spoon in his hand still.
And I wiped off his face,
and I kissed his forehead.
“goodnight."
Watching him smile
even as he slept.