I save each sleepy kiss
planted on my cheek,
each fistful of my hair that
my son gathers in
his hands.
There's a palpable warmth
that comes from being
with him.
I know that this will last
up to a certain age,
I know it in my head.
While it is comforting to know
that cycles repeat themselves
in life
I put my hands across time
like trying to tuck
a bed sheet
in a frame,
away from the
inevitable.
I never knew this
kind of relentless
counting of the
hours
until he tumbled
into our
hearts.
Each morning
I count
myself lucky
to have him snuggled
in my arms.
Nothing could be
simpler than his
body
warmth.
(Dec. 11, 2009)
Image from http://www.flickr.com/photos/amyvdh/2095120543/
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