My Love

Those impossibly, unruly curls

The smooth texture as I run my hand through them

Struck anew by the long long eyelashes 

The inscrutable stare before you drift off to sleep

The chubby arms that belie your lean frame

The softness of your cheek as you vigorously nurse on me

The hands that pat me as if to say - good job, mama

I am privileged, child, lucky beyond compare