Nightime ritual

I have no desire to be weak right now.
nor do I hold interest in the set definition of strength.
I wish to hear.
your voice at 2 o'clock in the morning
in constant awe of my affinity to converse with the Moon on Her time.
lady...
I wish to take your hand as my pillow yet again,
and travel to that wonderous place with your pulse as my compass.
is it ok to watch you in the mirror?
preparing for the nurse's nightshift
my eyes made wide like cartoon caricatures
transfixed by the talcum aroma dancing with your own sweet scent.
I kneel atop the stairwell, shoulder to shoulder with my brother
Once again accepting his challenge to, "Tell her."

"You look beautiful, Mummy...And if I was older I would marry you."

I want to see your cheeks rose as they did that night.
your mouth opening only to say with a smile, "Thank you."
I will hide behind the palms of my hands as I did then
while the narrow space between fingers and face gives way to bursts of laughter.
when you are ready to go at last,
We embrace.
my eyes and ears shall escort you to the door.
my facial imprint stamped to the bedroom window.
my neck shall extend, my toes shall stand taller than before.
and just before you depart from sight
the voice you carried and cared for shall say onto thee:

"bye Mummy..."