Five in the morning
my tick-tock love
beckons like a clock
what a damned gratitude
tortuously torn between celebration
and a lost plot of wee-hour dreams
parenthood beckons
and i
in grey sleepitude mode
nudge on my indefatigable Sirkal
a silent prayer said...
off to the rescue she jumps
Boom!
seven months and counting
fourteen and bouncing
you are the welcome lighthouse
spotted by sailors
a refuge
above else
a place of higher purpose
here,
with you,
a new direction resides
what
i wonder in anticipation
other tricks, other learnings
do you still harbour from us.
© March 2015
my tick-tock love
beckons like a clock
what a damned gratitude
tortuously torn between celebration
and a lost plot of wee-hour dreams
parenthood beckons
and i
in grey sleepitude mode
nudge on my indefatigable Sirkal
a silent prayer said...
off to the rescue she jumps
Boom!
seven months and counting
fourteen and bouncing
you are the welcome lighthouse
spotted by sailors
a refuge
above else
a place of higher purpose
here,
with you,
a new direction resides
what
i wonder in anticipation
other tricks, other learnings
do you still harbour from us.
© March 2015
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