brings a blizzard
outside and
a cold in my head.
Napping away the day
seems the prudent
no, loving
thing to do
for everyone involved.
Lolling on the bed next to me
in a milk-drunk haze,
my son rubs his fists in his eyes
and tries to keep playing.
He pulls his stuffed monkey close to his face
and growls into its fur.
He shakes his bumble bee rattle.
He rubs his eyes again
and energy spent,
he turns away from me, arches his back
and is gone.
His back resembles
a stack of pancakes.
Cherubim got nothin'
on him.
My husband drapes a blanket over us
and throws an arm over his son.
Falling asleep
I think how
thick the love feels today
like sweet red jam
on a warm slice of bread.
No comments:
Post a Comment