Mother-Son Dance

The room is dark.
I hold you in my arms and we move
slowly, in a circle
swaying to the rhythm of the song I sing you,
of my shhh-shhh-shhhing.
Sometimes you cry, and I wipe the tears from your eyes
and wrap you in the comfort of my embrace.


I know one day, we'll dance together again,
and it will be less clear if I'm holding you in my arms
or if you're holding me.
In a dim room, we'll move slowly in a circle,
swaying to the rhythm of a song.
And I will smile, and I may cry,
and you'll wipe the tears from my eyes
and wrap me in the comfort of your embrace.

I think about that one-day dance
every night.
And it makes me hug you a little tighter,
your 5-month-old body already heavy in my arms.
And it makes me sway with you a little slower
and shush you a little longer,
trying to hold onto every moment
of our mother-son dance.