You are the skittering of a puppy's feet down a wooden floor.
You are innocent doe's eyes,
Obnoxious Japanese cartoons,
Waffle mountains with whipped cream avalanches.
You are out-of-tune U2 songs sung at the
Top of your lungs in the car at night.
You are the holding each other and the
"From the mouths of babes" child.
You are the clean break of boards and
The scrawlings of equations on a paper
Ripped by one too many erasings.
You are spring mornings in the garden,
Summer evenings on the deck,
And winter nights with Java logs.
You are careening down the playhouse on a
Grimy yellow swing.
You are the child of gasps and sighs and beating hearts, the one for whom
Girls will hum softly under their breaths and
Cry deep into the night.
But, for now, I have you to myself, the
Dawn of my heart.