he does not use the towel
instead runs dripping fingers through
short hair constructing slick edges
spiked peaks and a rock and roll exit
into the family room
vocal bass line “hot wheels, beat that!”
cool moves and a flip over the couch
as predicted, cold snap catches us in our sleep
chilled morning toes tip into our room
“Mommy can I come up”
he is already there, snuggled in
eiderdown warmbaby feet reach down past my knees
when did that happen? this constant stretch
I whisper shhhhh still some time left to sleep
smoothing down his hair that tickles my nose
as I breathe warm easy my son my son my son
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