My son runs, wrapping arms around
my nebulous waist.
"l love you, Mom!" He squeezes tighter,
as if letting go would be his black hole.
"I love you, too, " I squeeze back, absent mindedly. (Where is the cream? I need coffee.)
"I love you more!" he breathes, without pause.
He gazes into my eyes,
searching my planets.
"Oh no, that can't be true," I retort.
I forget the coffee, his eyes are starlight.
"I love you to infinity!" he exclaims,
staring harder.
He wants to sail the Milky Way with me.
"Me too," I reply, and remember oxygen tanks.
I'm speaking in light years, and I hope the sound waves will catch up to him.
His face cracks into a million years of forever, before he lets go,
dancing across the universe of our livingroom,
his solar system intact.
At least for now.
Sep 8, 2014
Sep 8, 2014 at 3:58 PM UTC
My son runs, wrapping arms around
my nebulous waist.
"l love you, Mom!" He squeezes tighter,
as if letting go would be his black hole.
"I love you, too, " I squeeze back, absent mindedly. (Where is the cream? I need coffee.)
"I love you more!" he breathes, without pause.
He gazes into my eyes,
searching my planets.
"Oh no, that can't be true," I retort.
I forget the coffee, his eyes are starlight.
"I love you to infinity!" he exclaims,
staring harder.
He wants to sail the Milky Way with me.
"Me too," I reply, and remember oxygen tanks.
I'm speaking in light years, and I hope the sound waves will catch up to him.
His face cracks into a million years of forever, before he lets go,
dancing across the universe of our livingroom,
his solar system intact.
At least for now.
Here is the song that grew out of this poem.
https://on.soundcloud.com/Aq27VK0YDSPwZK6mFq
Request permission to use this poem