My Children

The issue from my wife and me combining.

My Children, my siblings, my loves, my life,

The joys, the jubilation in sharing in their expansion,

The pains and sorrows as they experience the darker side of life.

Those bedroom visits checking on their wellbeing.

The beauty of a sleeping child, curls caressing the pillow

The panic, that grips and contorts your inner vitals,

As you stand and listen, and the listening is unproductive.

The silence is unbearable, oh my God.

I place my ear close to that tiny rosebud mouth,

The knots start to unravel inside of me.as I,

Not so much hear, as feel the life warmth

Telling me my fears are unfounded .

On one of them awakening in the morn,

We know of this, not by the resonance of voice,

But of the snuggling, worming,

Homing in on the heat source, our bodies

The somnabulent movement of a tiny hand

Across face and ear, exploring the dictates ,

Of some childish dream.

The final bursting forth into wakeful awareness.

The bed, shaking from an assault of reborn energy,

As the child, leaping, goes its way, uncaring

As to what is underfoot, be it human or bedclothes.

Tired of this solo effort, exiting back to the bedroom,

Rounding up reinforcements,

Of those who have emerged from the cocoon of sleep,

To expend their combined energies,

On endeavoring to destroy the bed,

Using the our recumbent bodies as trampolines.