Wednesday, February 25, 2015

The Dusk Feed (In Slow Motion)

She cries, and I slowly take up my position on the couch,
bring her close, fill her up.
Every emotion is magnified for the next twenty minutes.
'I am so tired', I think.
And close my eyes for just a minute.
Everything is noisy here.
Big kids bathing, playing, reading, telling me jokes.
Cars speed down the street, workers anxious to return home to their babies, their families.
Dinner cooks or the stove, or, more often, it doesn't cook yet, though it should.
I cry. I want to be sick from the tiredness.
Her long baby fingers grasp at my shirt, my skin, my hands.
I study her ears, dimpled, furry, perfectly her.
I touch her toes, smooth my thumb across her feet.
And marvel at how she has grown already.
She finishes, full tummy.
Smiles at me and coos, telling me she is thankful, and that she loves me.
I cry. And smile.
And already the sun has set.


  1. Aww honey, so beautiful. So precious, but also so hard. And yet, in a blink its gone.

  2. This is so beautiful, it makes me cry and remember. Jaimie


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