kr1-1024x716

By Kristina Vardazaryan

2:37 a.m.

by Laura Grace Weldon

Weary of wakeful child
I rock against his reluctance.
Soft songs don’t lull.
Warm milk doesn’t lure.
It’s possible to adore
yet wish him unconscious.

A soft hand pats my face,
pulls my lip. He stands on my lap
reaching for window-framed moonlight.
The sight of his round-cheeked beauty
pours sudden warmth through my bones.

Back and forth we rock,
breathing in unison.
When he settles close,
head against my neck
I keep rocking
gratefully awakened.

###
Laura Grace Weldon is an editor, writer, and aspiring hermit. She lives on a small farm notable only for its lovestruck goose. She’s the author of a poetry collection titled Tending, and a handbook of alternative education, Free Range Learning. She invites you to hang out with her on her blog, Tumblr, and Twitter perch.

https://www.everywritersresource.com/poemeveryday/wp-content/uploads/2015/04/kr1-1024x716-1024x716.jpghttps://www.everywritersresource.com/poemeveryday/wp-content/uploads/2015/04/kr1-1024x716-300x300.jpgEvery WriterMoon Poem
2:37 a.m. by Laura Grace Weldon Weary of wakeful child I rock against his reluctance. Soft songs don't lull. Warm milk doesn't lure. It's possible to adore yet wish him unconscious. A soft hand pats my face, pulls my lip. He stands on my lap reaching for window-framed moonlight. The sight of his round-cheeked beauty pours sudden warmth through my bones. Back...