Morning (for Bobby Wade)
Each morning, still dark
An hour before wakefulness
You come, tiny feet
Padding up the stairs quickly first
Then slowly, you crawl
Into my bed, your back to my chest.
You scoot, settle in
And you say to me in the softest voice
Good morning, it’s time.
I lean over, kiss the wiry strands of your hair
And beg, not yet.
Turning to me with a decided grunt you kiss me
So gently, on the cheek
That my heart cracks open like a coconut shell
Making room to love you more.