Time will tick quickly
Years speeding by
but right now, we have 3am
holding your small body against my chest.
Your warm trust
Head against my heartbeat
Lungs moving under my palm
Soft fuzz of new hair against my cheek
While your hand idly plays with my shirt
and your other is tucked against my neck, anchoring.
Your chubby thighs bent on my stomach
tired from crawling and stumbling along
A sigh, content, comfortable, as minutes pass by
in the dark glow of the night light and the digital clock numbers, counting.
Soft murmurs,
I kiss your head, feel you fall deeper
and I tell you, mind to mind, that I love you more than anything.
I could sit here forever and hold you like this, and I hope I do
but your head is heavier and my breasts begin screaming.
I gently deposit you next to me, always touching me, so you know I’m there. Rest my hand on your back for five more minutes,
until you are in deep
then hook up the pump and think about how precious these minutes are, while the pump pulses down the seconds in the dark.
~~
Meg Eubank is a mother, poet, teacher, and artist whose poetry has been published in Teaching as a Human Experience (Cambridge Scholars Publishing), When Flowers Sing (a thousand flowers books), Holon Project, Quail Bell Magazine, Modern Romantic Magazine, and other literary magazines. Her photography has been exhibited in New York, Philadelphia, Pittsburgh, and Venice, Italy.
