The hours consumed by pitter pattering thought.
Flittering from future fantasies to
failures to fully realize past plans and fall on fallacies.
Pacing the halls, wearing thin cat and dog hair carpet,
Suburban street lit by the silver wand of a toddler
Intermittent musings from two best friends intermingling
in the cool air below the oaks.
Great trials past, mountains yet to climb, roads unpaved and still unmarked.
And now two best friends and child bearing,
rearing, weary, barely wearing composure.
Who
is doing the carrying?
Wild, it's so wild, this life we're entrusted to live
and to lead, to bear the burdens of each others decisions
and the blessings of that beautiful face,
the radiant result of union between Sophia and Grace.
Oh Sophia, you sit so quietly in the corner
I sometimes forget you are there. I sometimes forget,
when my words stumble and drop to the floor,
when my hands play the drummer boy,
when my breath quickens and eyes dart,
I forget that you hadn't left.
This boy asleep in our bed,
his head covered in tusseled hair and filled
with the sweet adventures of innocence,
This boy and his brother, asleep in his mother,
warm in the balance of weightlessness and innocence,
Sophia, introduce yourself to them.
Make home in their rooms and see them grow.
Quiet and gentle- carry their voice,
Softly steady their hands.
Soften their hearts and ready their vision,
for what you alone know lay ahead.
These boys, ever the children to you,
We have waited for, we have loved, and we continue.
