I’m roused from precious sleep, instantly alert.
Listening for you.
It's a skill all mothers master,
flipping the switch from asleep to awake.
I remember when sleep was an ocean,
endless depths of waves and dreams.
Tranquil, restful, lovely.
Now sleep is fragmented,
like a shallow puddle often stirred by little feet.
You can’t help but splash through it.
And I don’t mind. Most of...
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