The baby boy version
of the baby girl you…
His eyes, wide
dark brown
He makes those sounds
The same ones
your mother’s wind chimes made
when the breeze
would gently push the sail
and the sail
would kiss the notes,
then gales
of wind would push the chimes
so hard
that they would clash
and hurt her ears
Your sounds,
the chimes of him.
He’s the baby boy
you hold, feed,
gaze upon
while you drift into
a reverie
through woods
as dark as the eyes
you share.
A sudden bolt
of lightning
wears and tears
the sturdy trees
that held you here.
What more to do
than collapse
and let go?
His existence
is what pulls you
Drags you back
to Mom's embrace
The way she held you
fed you
gazed into
the eyes
you gave him.
His heart now beats
against your chest
Your heart just listens...
for her rhythm is ever
her own.
photo by Dieter Hinrichs from the book Children and their Mothers