This is a day for poetry

i woke, the air
yawning frost on the window,
round underbelly making ripples in red
cotton sheets. A warm orb
like neon petals and natural light,
cream awakening and kisses in flannel.

You are safe,
you are loved,
i am so magnetic already.

Your silken hands press,
we are weaving you like worms,
and we will always be your roots,
whenever you need them.

Your heart looked like a butterfly
the first day I saw you--
expanding your wings
and pumping little pulses
of magic and reality.
You are so small;
my sockets melted salty bliss.
You flutter in me and I feel you,
each and every night at 9:54.
You flap your feet,
do you like when mommy writes,
do you hear the music?
"Flutterby" means so much more.


e. chayes