Again, you have left your solitary sleep
and journeyed on child's feet
to the warmth your sleeping mother makes,
this breathing space you've always called
Too tired to move you, I yank at the blankets
to claim back my share, to remind you
that I too, am here, grumbling to myself
this is not the way things are supposed to be.
And you roll toward me. Your head migrates
unerringly to that space beneath my chin
where you snuggle in as if to remind me
that whatever the day has been
the love that fills this bed
is more than I might claim
by right or dreams to know.
And so I fall asleep, embraced
by the breathing that fills this space
with such delicate and, yes,
such undeserved grace.