Row.

Row, my love. My little dove.
My shining moon.
You’re wrapped up right now; a butterfly in her cocoon, 
sleeping, 
soundly,
as I write.

You’re three weeks old, today,
my Light in the night’s sky.
 

My heart beats and it turns and it grows.
My heart flutters when yours flutters,
aches when yours aches,
beats deeply as you press your tiny ear into my chest.
You listen as you have the past 9 months.
I rub my cheek against the top of your head– 
you’re like silk, the softest touch. 
You’re feet are tucked underneath of you.
You’re my little lamb curled up.

I feel your skin on my bare breast
and suddenly we’re amongst the stars.
We’re soaring, like the song I sing to you at night,
over the rainbow, 
through the rainbow,
amongst the rainbows.
You’re my little rainbow.
 

I love you.
I love you so much.
Oh, so much, Row.
My doe, my dear.
Mama will always be near.