I dream these days of setting an alarm.
At 5 or so a “mama!” cry and call —
keep watch! And keep a toddler safe from harm.
I roust myself and stumble down the hall.
He’s snuggly — just a moment — my reward,
then off he tugs while all the household sleeps.
The kitchen: yogurt? cheese? He’s quickly bored.
The TV’s on, and through the dim light seeps
refrains of “Thomas! He’s the cheeky one!”
I make my coffee, seize that precious sip,
see through the panes the slowly rising sun.
I try to read. In bleariness, I slip
away. “Enjoy these days, they go so fast!”
says someone who forgets these mornings past.