( a poem for slow mornings with a small boy )
My mornings consist of stroking tiny soft arms and gorgeous blonde curls His eagerness to sit next to me at breakfast says it all He’s 4, in every way a gift, calm yet enthused I cannot drink it in enough! Cannot stop smiling at how cute he is! How his little hands clasp his plastic baby cup, still I am entrenched, wishing this would last forever more Wishing that they’d stay small and innocent Hoping I can stay present enough to simply bathe in the beauty that is My motherhood, my time, my moments with you
Sophie Slosarczyk
More poems for this feeling: visit the Poem Library.
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