Poem – Morning Routine 2

The monitor speaks

Static sounds wake me from dreams

My son is stirring

Wee hours or so it seems

I shuffle, zombie like

Sleep escaping, like a blast

Nursery door creaks open

Night, fading fast

I move to the crib

Peer over its edge

I watch his movement

Just beyond the ledge

His eyes scan mine

We bridge a gap, father to son

He smiles up at me

The morning has begun

Part 1 to this series:



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