1 a.m., Nearly 2, Late Summer
You came so clean
The others were envious.
So wizened you looked
Already, despite your newness:
Scrunchy face turned upwards
Hands folded, Lotus-like,
Clasped and overlapped.
So quizzical and bright
Immediately reaching
Instinct taking over.
What love!
There is no comparison
Yet found to match this.
You took over distances
In that room
Rocking us through and through.
My love
My love
My little cub, my little lion.
November 11, 2005
Not to be used without permission from author
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