I notice his hands grow thicker.
Wrists bend with greater and greater articulation.
Almond shaped cobalt blue perception.
Freckles seem to form under my daily inspection.
Blond fuzz on perked ears for protection.
Helpless from my love and attention.
Could be easily seen as a symbol of perfection.
These white follicles and sweaty cold feet, inherent.
Evidence of effort always (tongue in teeth) apparent.
With every naked movement.
Struck,
moment by moment.
Studied over time as my vision becomes less,
his more acute.
With countless rooms of mess.
Check out his happiness.
I am pinioned down under an avalanche of questions.
I parry some.
He pulls on my heart
as the day he did come from splayed limbs
of Francesca’s nest.
Now, hide and seek.
After we will speak
of a little rest.
Each day we will do our best.
His facility, unlike how
I worked on so long with dogged interest.
Such courage in his gait
does suggest,
he is clearly not me.
He does not need to wear the shell
I needed, nor the time invest, to relearn to see.
Lucky, he will never be me.
Deep in the ground, his placenta was planted under his very own,
Ginkgo tree.
Draw for me.
