You called to tell me you were sick and in bed.
You needed me to tell you all would be well
so near your birthday, both of ours in April.

You were my first and eldest child
though I was young, and felt younger
with you cradled in my arms, both of us
cocooned together for your afternoon nap.

The light coming in from the Dutch Dormer window
in the bedroom’s long rectangular shape
cast strips of sunlight shimmering on yellow walls
and above our heads, a deeper shadow as the sun
moved under the eaves.

Unable to turn with you beside me
I watched your lips move, eyelids flutter
not knowing who you would become
while I, in your eyes, never changed
as you became more yourself
with no memory of those afternoons together.

Mysterious to myself watching and keeping watch
you slept the sleep of infants.
Undeterred, the afternoon sun played with the deepening dusk
and your slow melodic breath blended with mine
older, more practiced, in harmony with yours.

Karen Schulte is a retired social worker and therapist who began writing in grade school an full time since retirement. She has had her poetry published in a number of journals and anthologies as well as won awards for them. Her collection of poetry, Where Desire Settles” won first place in the Writer’s Digest nationwide contest for a self-published book of poetry in 2017.