a warm newborn snuggling to your breasts
cooing sound with every suck
and just happy to be with you
and in return
you can't think or possibly immagine anywhere else you'd rather be
even though the dishes and bathroom could use your attention
as long as the two year old is happy prancing around
you are content to stay with baby, lying in a sunbeam, cooing and breathing together.
1 comment:
Beautiful.
Beautiful poem.
Beautiful baby.
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