The little boy I knew
cared for all the bugs he knew
He would ask them to be handled safely
Though he’d see them later barely
He’d ask they not be hit
even the mosquitoes
that gave him bad sores
He didn’t think twice
to cuddle me tight, or
press mine on to his face
He’d latch on to my back
without any reluctance
He’d ask for my hand
before we slept
to squeeze his into mine
We’d play the nudge game
finding the patterns
and relaying them
at the tips of our fingers
We’d go on and on,
until sleep beseeched
our tired end-of-day minds
These portals of playfulness
were the proof of parenting
I thought so very proudly
Now, that he’s grown tall
and gotten a teen mind
I miss the sweetness
though the pudding is still mine
~ 12 Jul 25, 23 Jul 25
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