Mother at age 18
My phone makes its way to the edge of my desk,
Shaking all the way to the ledge..
Your phone-book stops your graphic sleep,
And I, your unconditional answerer.
Your lips begin, expand and sag.
But you like sensations of such stretching,
And here wafts your bloated breathing.
My ears tend to it, each time it is born.
Respiring begs for my council,
Only until your lungs grow airy,
Your ether set blaze to sound guidance.
I am your unconditional answerer.
Your babies, I nurse, I tend to each time,
They keep quiet, suckling on simplicity.
Heavy breathing impedes infant solitude.
And I am here to pacify chattering calamities.
Shaking all the way to the ledge..
Your phone-book stops your graphic sleep,
And I, your unconditional answerer.
Your lips begin, expand and sag.
But you like sensations of such stretching,
And here wafts your bloated breathing.
My ears tend to it, each time it is born.
Respiring begs for my council,
Only until your lungs grow airy,
Your ether set blaze to sound guidance.
I am your unconditional answerer.
Your babies, I nurse, I tend to each time,
They keep quiet, suckling on simplicity.
Heavy breathing impedes infant solitude.
And I am here to pacify chattering calamities.