parenthood | Spaceman's Pancakes

Poem of the Day #24 – 9/20/17

Lying on the couch

Watching the game. My little boy’s

head rests on my chest

Together we walk

Your tiny hand in my hand

My sweet little boy

She is sent to bed,

In these summer months,

Just as the sun is breaking the horizon,

Just as the light turns golden,

Just as the fireflies emerge.

How can she ever be convinced

That there is nothing magic

being left behind?

Who could ever sell that lie

While the earth emits sparks

And clouds become

cotton candy?

I have sat and watched

As the evening has come

And gone and seen these illusions fade.

Still, I will struggle to sleep

Fearing that there is magic

That I might miss.

There is no greater quiet

Then a little boy sleeping-

a mid-day nap