My Youngest Son
by In All Our Years
in the last early hour of sleep, i sit bedside my youngest son,
and touch his tender feet.
i watch- as he breaths life in, changing what is around him.
he stirs and blinks – “cold”, he says …
his shoulders bare, his face so sweet, he knows i care,
as i pull the covers from below his feet. first with sheet- so thin,
then with blanket, keeping heat in.
he smiles… he cuddles his new found warmth.
i kiss his cheek. i touch his chin. i let him sleep. Oh- how i love him…
i kiss him once again and as i go, i leave himself with Him.