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In darkness you were formed,
tethered to me, dependent on the
whooshing of blood flowing through
my body, bringing you oxygen,
lulling you to sleep.

At dawn you became real,
severed from me, now reliant on the
flowing of milk, filling
my swollen breasts, giving you nourishment,
welcoming sleep.

In morning’s twilight you thrive,
separate from me, weaned from
my being, nudging
you forward, granting you permission to
soothe yourself to sleep.

At sunrise I see you,
often unable to reach you, now drawing
energy from your busy surroundings.
But at dusk you return after
a long day of playing,
asking me to sing you to sleep.

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