Devotion

Three AM, my legs stretched out on the couch.
Your seven pound body lies across my chest.
Fed, changed, sleeping
My heavy eyelids wish for bed
My rest secondary to yours.

My bare feet dart across scolding hot sand
While your tiny fingers grasp around my neck
Three years old, tanned, tired from a day in the sun.
Where are my sandals?
I burn the soles of my feet, instead of you.

The wind is chilling, bitter cold.
Your jacket – forgotten, still on the hook at home.
I slip your seven year old arms into my worn fleece sweater.
I shiver, teeth chatter, hug you.
My warmth secondary to yours.

Stuck out longer than we intended
Only enough money for one meal.
I give you the hamburger and fries.
My stomach growls with hunger instead of yours.

The caller ID on my cell phone says you.
“Mom, come get me. I’m sick and in pain.”
We spend the afternoon in a Med care facility
My poem deadline means nothing to me at this moment.