by corrie byrne
He lays his head on my arm
takes a deep breath and puffs it out-
everything stops,
this is how I know hes officially asleep.
you see Ive watched him for so long
and I know every move hes going to make
I can tell when hes confused, and how,
without words,
I can clear things up for him...
make the world simple and warm again.
Hes so tense
when Im not around.
no ones there to hold him
no one wants his warmth
no one wants to calm him
no one wants his effects.
his universe is skewed,
his eyesight partial,
his nerves fragile.
always trying to make things right
always being wrong.
hes careful... so careful.
and I come home and hes sitting there,
wild eyed, on edge.
but some smooth words,
a little extra honey in my voice
soothes him
and within minutes were watching TV.
his breath puffs out as he succumbs to my protection,
and I stroke my baby- 11 going on 67.
trace the white hairs that have begun appearing,
the cream color that used to be a brilliant auburn.
hes grown heavy,
and while he sleeps I stroke his love handles.