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The Philosophy of 4 am or Sleep Deprivation, Breastmilk, and Poetry


With sleep heavy eyes I watch you with your milky smile
your tiny brown hand wrapped, warm and sweet, around my finger
your endless brown eyes captivated, searching
Heart locked, connected

Each of us here in this eternal moment
Stretched out


The Birth of my Littlest Empress

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Your skin tastes sweet and dry, like history
on the first morning of our first meeting
Like old paper and papyrus

I draw loose circles around the taste of you
Twisting you in beside me
quiet hands stilled impossibly
willing the veil be torn away

to learn the easy steady rhythm of your own submission
of yes Mistress
of more please

Of freedoms found only in restraints
and sweet and dirty kisses to soothe away the pain

The Meaning of Tomorrow

The rain pitter patters quietly outside my window

This cool grey day curls around my wrists

Whispers in my ears

I am so tired

Tired that spans across this day in a silent salute to something that won’t quite take shape

That kind of tired

Still, I know that at the end of this long day, you’ll be there with hot tea and comfort

I can make it that long



My heart pounds with this
Words fail me
In this exceptional moment,
Through some magical sleight of hand,
or maybe it’s the gleam in your eye when you smile at me just so
Which never seems to end

Dreams and futures interwoven with the here and now
growing ever stronger
A Baobab tree or a Sequoia
spanning past and future with quiet determination and an implacable lust for light

My heart grows here, rich with joy, earth fed veins and sun on my face
My dreams grow here, whisper kisses, grumble beard, and strong mahogany arms

This intoxicating Gaurdian

bracing me when I stumble
rejoicing when I am victorious
The sweetest nectar

Leaves touched by golden sun surely sing it’s praises

Dream Child


Your eyes hold infinite possibilities
Your futures formed of magical intent

Small pink fingers reaching out in a full bodied expression of astonishment at all this universe has to offer you

there is so very very much to see
So very much to feel and do
As you greet the world, a lost old friend

Hello again my good friend. You look so good. Why yes I love you too

Punctuated in baby giggles and the warm comfort of our hearts beating that primal rhythm

Shashoosh shashoosh shashoosh

Finding my Groove Again, A Love Song Baby


I have dreams of you


Past tense

A memory of a memory before you were even born


8 years gone by since the day I was blessed with a sunny giant child instead of a small, dark, angry, elfin baby. The baby I dreamed of even then


Years before I’d meet you

My moon child