The curve of your cheek,
to rest the flutter of your lashes.
Bow lips and long fingers,
skinny legs and tiny toes.
A life both complete and barely begun.
Deep blue eyes that search mine,
asking questions I have no answers for,
and so I respond with a million kisses
on the softest place of your neck.
Sleeping mostly in our arms
Or at my breast,
where we have conversations
in soft gulps and pieces of myself
dissolved to nourish folds and chicken legs.
We rock together gentle,
the house strangely hushed in
latest night and earliest morning hours.
Finger curled around mine,
brow furrowed in concentration
then relaxed into sleep.
Hair swirled in cowlicks,
dark and soft,
Knees curl into folds of skin
and I caress them again,
obsessed with your newness
and the softest down covering your shoulders.
Sleep comes steady,
just not in the night.
And so instead I study rounded belly,
lines of a nose and furrow of a brow.
Hold tight I remind myself
to these short days and long nights.
To shadows and light
dancing fleeting across your face.
