Baby's Tears

Fragrant sudsy soap stays lathered in
your tiny hands
as I splash cold water on your face.
Water droplets running, saying,
"Catch me if you can."

I grope for the towel nearby
burying your face in the soft terry cloth.
Dry once more - no tears in sight.

Your cherubic pink face beams back at me,
the hurt gone from your twinkling eyes.

Round you go, pulling me eagerly with you
as your sudsy pudgy fingers tug at my sleeve.
"Let's rinse your hands first," I say.

Moments later, your legs roll out of view,
dimpled padding of baby fat vanishing fast.
I wipe my own hands on the towel.
I hear your giggles next door.

Now you're playing hide-and-go-seek with Mommy.