‘Thump’ cuts through the longed for silence. Your soft wee body crashes to the ground, like a pile of bricks. Tired out from turning 5, you barely stir, as I collect you in my arms and kiss your warm cheeks. With a stretch and a yawn, you are gently returned, once more, to those spirits of night.
-
Recent Posts
Looking back
- April 2017 (1)
- January 2017 (1)
- September 2016 (1)
- May 2016 (1)
- April 2016 (3)
- January 2016 (1)
- December 2013 (1)
- June 2013 (1)
- May 2013 (1)
- April 2013 (1)
- January 2013 (1)
- September 2012 (1)
- August 2012 (1)
- July 2012 (1)
- June 2012 (3)
- May 2012 (1)
- April 2012 (3)
- March 2012 (3)
- February 2012 (6)
- January 2012 (29)
-
Join 63 other subscribers
Search my site
I write about…
#napowrmo 2017 beauty Body body wisdom breath children compassion Create Critic dark Darkness death deception poetry Discourse dying Earthquakes excitement Fear feminism self care collective flow Gratitude Grief Happiness Hekate hope Imagine In between incantation Journeys light Listening Longing Loss Love massage Mindfulness Mother Naomi Shihab Nye New Year Oneness Parenting physics Poem Poetry poetry; love; bliss; writing; regret possibilities Post-modernism power re-entry Rumi Russian dolls separation Silence small stone Space between spaciousness summer sunflower The gap truth truth telling Visible void weather words writing Yoga
Oh that is so beautiful. I love, ‘tired out from turning 5’. My little grandson was 3 on Sunday and spent Monday 30th ‘tired out from turning 3’!
Happy birthday to your son!