To Zachary, 3 1/2 years young

We nap together. You and I.
I awake before you. That’s a change.

This is nourishment.
To enjoy your presence
. . . quiet . . . still . . . safe . . . good . . .

At this moment you are . . . mine . . . all mine . . .

I take much pleasure and delight in you. I revel in you.

All of you.

You are my treasure.

Tender, irresistible lips
Truly a perfect nose
Peachy fuzz above your lips
Tiny hairs on your cheek
The rise and fall of your chest
Criss-crossed eyelashes

The hair from your head rests on your neck and rises, then falls,
as the blood surging through a main artery calls the hair to wave with it.

I want to touch you. But dare not, so as not to wake you.
I do not want this gift to end.

Finally I reach out and lie my hand upon yours.
The curve of your hand fitting snugly in the curve of mine.
You stay asleep.

For a little while, we are one as if back in my womb.
You are mine. Not even of your own. All mine.

And . . . I wish you love.

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