i wrote this after being inspired byh one of my favorite philosophers and poets, T.S. eliot. yes, mama is a hippy.
i love my babies.
i hope to never forget
the smell of his room
when i sneak in to
bring the covers to his chin
and i hope to never forget the feeling of his weight
in all of its fullness
complete in my arms
i hope to never forget his scent, lingering on his skin
nor forget breathing it in deeply
while he submits to an unassuming embrace
his face,
doubled over in cries
the pain he feels
tears in his eyes
i made it right. i made it right.
i hope to never forget
how i made him, yet he completed me.
i hope he can only understand the same.
when i am gone, and all that are left are words.
words from others, some fabrications because of the loss,
i hope he can tell the truth
that my life began at the first hello.
my life never ends because of him.
words that i have said, that mean twice as more as they appear.
words i leave for him.
words of stories told.
words, memories.
i hope he has more than words.
in the night, when he sleeps
i hope he is awakened by my presence slipping into his room to make sure he is covered.
in the morning, before he wakes,
he feels my lips upon his forehead because i simply must.
in the day, feel my arms, because i cant go so long without his touch.
infinite love, he will one day understand, when his hello is said, and his life begins.
what a lonely love, one that cannot be expressed. but joyous he will know.
joyous he will know.
this is, so far, my favorite picture of you in my tummy. 
