YOUR APPROVAL
I used to watch your tiny face
mesmerised by something so small
so consumed by what you were
and what you were to become.
I couldn't imagine you any other way
- other than the tiny life
that found comfort
in laying in the dip of my thighs
- your head tilted back,
your feet kneading my stomach,
my knees supporting your head.
And I sat so still,
watching your wrinkly little fingers
grasping at things I could not see.
You would cry if you weren't acknowledged,
demand attention,
a soothing voice
- a glance.
'Don't forget me!' you'd scream,
chin dotted with indignation.
You'd kick your booties off,
clench your fists
until your knuckles were white,
white with fear,
fear that I couldn't hear your demands.
But you needn't have worried
I always heard
and I will always listen.
I believed you depended on me,
in ways only I knew.
I hope you know now
that I depend on you too.
You don't know it,
but you made me a promise
in the way you allowed me to
stroke your hair,
to feed you
and hold you close.
You as a child,
me wishing I was younger,
just to be a little closer,
before either of us got too old.
And now here we are,
you kept your promise.
You no longer scream for attention,
you never even ask.
But you are a pillar,
you are home.
You mean safety,
recognition in a world of unease.
A reminder that I am capable of love
no matter how fast time passes,
no matter how much we change.
And if you need to figure out
what you were grasping for,
remember - I'm listening.