Wee Hours

It's very quiet at this hour. The clock ticking over my shoulder. The boiler humming. The pipes clanging as they work to keep the house warm.

I feel the soft in and out of your breathing, the warmth of your breath against my collarbone, the rise and fall of your chest against mine. You've made it clear that this is the only place you're sleeping tonight. And as much as I'd like to be sleeping too, I love that you find comfort in me, your mama.