toes push, heels rock, we're swinging
and my legs are metronome to the
heartbeat of a quiet afternoon.
neither of us are talking,
just sitting:
push, rock
the clanking of chain against chain
and screw inside of wood
protesting against our weight,
and we're simply sitting
amid the bird-song and each other:
push, rock
and i think, "we're here on a swing
and there is space between us
and he's just two
and i wonder if he knows
how much i love him?"
so i reach over,
caress his fat-creased thighs
and i whisper,
i love you:
push, rock
we're just sitting
and neither of us is talking
and there's space between us
and still looking forward
he reaches over the space and touches my hand:
push, rock
5 comments:
What a well-loved little one! I love this picture of you loving your boy.
The rhythm of this perfectly mirrors the sound/rhythm of a swing/rocker. I love the tenderness of the touch between mama and toddler. Precious.
Dang! You're good.
What Jodi said! I have no idea how to write rhythmically like that. You have such a gift! And, oh, if they only knew how much we loved them! How I long to reach over and offer a tender caress like that. Beautiful, friend!
(Oh, and in answer to your question at my place--yes, I home schooled. I didn't always love it. Haven't been able to write much about that experience yet. I think I need to get some distance)
I wonder how many 'mamas' now know that their mamas felt and still feel the same way?
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