Monday 5:47

Tiny baby sleeps
in her white and lavender crib
I wonder what she dreams
as she rests her small head
on her soft sheets

You cried most of the lazy
winter day
Was it teething?
We wondered
Is she constipated?
We asked
as I humbly
diligently
motherly
assumed my regular tasks.

I fed you in your high chair
I wiped your little butt
after a soggy and (somewhat) pleasant diaper
you would think I’d had enough

But–
oh no, this is normal
regular
perhaps
a bit
mundane
Yet
when I hug and kiss you
my dear
I am grateful
life will
never
be
the
same–

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