There is no sleep in my soul. My son screams in his waking body.
Laugh boy, at my need to rest. Your new eyes don't blink.
I wither like a sun bruised grape.
Meditate mamma: I am limitless. I am love.
This too shall pass. And I am on this ride. Accept.
The spaghetti and meatball world entangles me.
Wicked madness on a plate, yet my child must spin this bloody mess on his fork.
Consumed. I don't know. And I'm one of those people who pretends to.
So hold on son. And I will too.
No comments:
Post a Comment