We hear your cries,
the wailing
of dependence and hunger
pulling us from the lightest
forms of slumber.
My bride
called for sustenance;
the maternal keeper
of life and thirst.
I hear her footsteps fall
quietly slipping
out in the dark hall,
hushing your breaths
while trying to not awaken
my thoughts.
I slip into the night
to catch a glimpse
through a cracked door,
of you looking down
holding her close
rocking, nursing and loving her
with all your tired might.
I lay knowing,
of your strength
love and devotion,
allowing me to slip
back into the solace
of darkness.
