I remember clearly
the cute little form of our child
born at the bright edge of morning.
How everything was a gift
building on this prolog,
the transfer of blood and love.
I remember what it is
to feel your belly
before our child was born,
the transfer of warmth and love.
How you talked and sang
soothing melodies
in the still calm night, your words
reaching to cradle our child
in outstretched arms
was music flowing through me, too.
All the mysteries
folded into a delicate bundle,
wrapped in satin and
lined with Queen Ann’s lace.
The easiness of the first meeting,
our child known, seeing your joy—
tiny hands wrapped around your fingers.
Now the long hair already,
such forward little feet,
how promise and love wake to body.
Despite the rift of years,
the warmth continues to move inward,
still bringing me to my knees.
The heart pushes the flesh,
we all move into the uncertain seed
of the unknown.
But how like cloud is the realm of love.
Stephen Cipot
Garden City Park
