Some Mornings

little limbs
soft breath
sharp knees
but it’s the arm,
the little arm,
wrapped around my neck
holding my hair
in her fist
that gets me

her leg over mine
as if trying to fold
the two of us together
but we fit like a puzzle
because she is made from me
and she has my hair, my freckles, my heart

I pull her close
rest my cheek on her head
and tell her I love her
even though she can’t hear me
over her dreams

and I wish this was enough
for both of us
Always