They are ours.

The still small, smiling, crying
laughing, angered, forever hungry
Except for when its time to eat
Children.

Your children from your hips
My children from my *****

The answered prayers.
That flit to and fro
Fast and slow.
The sleepless nights
And late mornings
And causes of worry
And constant delight

We made those.

I awake
Having not slept
As the moon sets,
Soft light nestled
Like warmth and draped
Over your curves.

My sons you have birthed
And patiently you've waited
For my slowly unraveling heart.

I am inwardly old and slow with these things and so you walk, not run with me.
Together
We reside in a moment
Of soft breaths and peace.

Should I not work till death creaks
In my bones to provide you
A mirror of heavens peace
Here with me?