Today is February 16th. When I awake tomorrow you’ll be three. I haven’t even seen that face in person since I left that day. But it’s still in my brain, engraved.
And now, I know you’re not alone with her and that’s okay with me. ‘Cause I know she loves the way you breathe. And if I get a chance to come your way you won’t recognize my face, the face of someone that raised you those days.