Like he'd always been there.
The newborn.
Head lolling...
hands grapping and mouthing nipple-shaped air.
He'll be ready soon for an outing...
when the sun's out.
For now he's every waking minute
And stolen dream.
The cry between the sleep and feed.
The love of all loves.
Sent from my BlackBerry® wireless device
Tuesday, 9 November 2010
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