The little hand swipes across the nose.

The nose is wet and red and caked.

She giggles.

The hand waves.

The hand grabs.

The hand cups her mouth as she whispers in his ear.

He laughs.  She smiles.

The hand “high fives”.

The hand pats his back as they hug and jump.

A marble passes between them.

Her fingers swipe his as they part ways.

He comes home to me.

Sleepy hands meet sleepy eyes.

His hand caresses my face.

Stories and pinky swears…

the goodnight kiss of death.

Such is the dance

of the preschool petri dish.