I sit here, rocking

waiting for you to wake.

In your blanket with the bumps

snuggled close to me.

My butt? It’s numb, from sitting for an hour.

Trying not to move or disturb you from your slumber.

What’s that, my boy, are you laughing at me?

Because Miles, like always

you’re smiling in your sleep.

Or perhaps it’s the birds, singing at our window.

With the curtains pulled shut, this cave of ours is peaceful.

While the air condition hums,

the ceiling fan spins,

I hold your little hand with the baby blues again.

Don’t worry little one, it’s not that I am sad

it’s just you’ve given me such joy,

it hurts to feel glad.

So when you’re good and ready

to laugh and sing and play

just open up those brilliant eyes

and take these blues away.