Warm

She climbs into our bed
somewhere in the middle
of the night
and throws an arm over me,
proprietary,
"you're mine, Mama".

I have a hard time denying her,
me,
this simple pleasure.

Someday she won't want
such sweet proximity,
she'll cut her apron strings,
she'll grow into her own,
she'll proudly sleep all night in her own bed.

But now,
the little, warm, sleeping body
with the heavy arm draped across my belly
is far closer to the babe in the womb
- my babe -
than I'd ever thought possible
almost six years ago.

She takes my breath away.