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.