Asleep we lay, the family all in bed;
My wife with stealth slides out to leave the room;
Our youngest stirs, her hair a weaver’s broom,
Once coos, contorts her face, and turns her head.
I knew this nap was too infirm to keep.
The spell’s been broken now, the fragile charm
Is lifting; soon the house will be awake,
Think I, till older sister (still so young) she takes
The baby’s hand and snoozes the alarm.
She’s done it! Now the babe is back asleep.
Two babies holding hands, the pleading tone,
“Don’t wake up yet, my baby,” th’ older sighs,
A perfect scene. Alas, I realize
I shouldn’t stir them up to reach my phone.
The recent movement; her slumber can’t be deep.
And so, I smile, the moment just for me;
It’s writ in sand, a bubble in a stream,
No way to share it with the world, it’d seem;
Some seconds more the scene I oversee.
Til o’er me slumber might resume its creep.
My simple bed, the kids, the common room,
Alit that afternoon in majesty,
And I, a common guy, think haughtily,
Alone have witnessed it. So I presume.
Alone have I a heart to beat and leap.