footsteps overhead

Little footsteps overhead,
Tip-toeing down the stairs.
Half asleep I hear his voice,
“Mommy? I am scared.”

“Can I sleep with you tonight?”
I pull back the covers for my reply.
He climbs right in and snuggles up
Between his father and I.

“Mommy, can you move your hair?”
“It’s right where I want my head”
And just like that a swap is made,
Hair replaced by his warm breath.

I move and inch – he moves an inch,
Closer he couldn’t possibly be.
As if he still remembers once,
When he was part of me.

Bad dream or simply missing me,
To me it doesn’t really matter.
I’ll always draw the covers back
And move my bothersome hair.

Someday when he’s a child no more,
And, much larger seems my bed,
Half asleep ears will miss his voice,
And little footsteps overhead. …

~smj

talk to me...

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