It was the coldest night of winter,
snow on the footpaths and icicles
hanging from the window ledges.
Every window open to biting frost as Ellen had a fever
Cradled in the crook of my arm her chubby hot hand curled around my fingers.
Alison Jean Hankinson
For Quadrille#23 Curl at d’Verse.
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Hues of Hankinson 
Straight to my heart. There’s no more worthy poetry theme than our babies.
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This is beautifully written. And I do hope Ellen feels better soon 🙂
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This is goes straight to the heart, no stronger moment than when you feel as needed as this…
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A beautiful write and I hope she feels better soon :o)
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Poor sweetie. Beautifully written.
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A real moment of motherhood……and that chubby hot little curled hand. So so very sweet.
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This instantly made me think of my son when he is ill. I hope Ellen is better!
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Oh, that hot little hand. Remember that well. Hope Ellen gets well quickly.
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It reminds me of long ago of when our own children would hang onto my fingers with their small hands.
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Yes, I remember those days ~ Hope she feels better ~
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Vivid and heart-tugging.
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