I'm sorry if i watch you when you're asleep,
but it's the only time i get to see you at rest,
from the moment you wake 'til you nod off
you're non-stop and i never get any peace!
from climbing the stairs to losing your socks,
stealing my food and clinging to my legs
I beg for 5 minutes to just sit down
but you want mummy from dusk til dawn!
I swear I'm going grey from the running around
but I'm so happy you're here - and so very proud.
I won't complain and I'll try not to get mad,
cos today you're a toddler, but tomorrow you'll be a man.
they say time flies when you're having fun,
it must be true, cos I'm so happy with my amazing little son.
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His Haibun
He does not like poetry; I write it anyway and do not tell him. It's true his face is not a poet's face. It is round and open, youthful; too apt to be compared to the sun. His nose is neat. It is impossible to imagine him smoking a cigarette, terse, full of cheekbones and tension. His warmth burns my fingertips. I am here for his fascinating body, the haphazard freckles I touch one by one; he is here for my eyes, just my eyes. A sunbeam sneaks through the curtains and pierces us both, sizzling the spices of his skin. I inhale and wrap myself in him. He kisses my eyes.
By TheSpinstress6 days ago in Poets
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