Every night, before sleep,
I'm blessed to say —
I'm holding my mother's hand.

Her touch,
so warm,
like a bonfire on a winter day.

Her skin,
like wet sand,
washed over
by storms and sea.

The lines —
an endless maze of beauty,
carved by the Creator.

A secret moment,
shared only between us.

In the darkness
of the night —
hearts entwined,
becoming one golden orb,
radiating love and light.

Our souls combine,
as if
I'm once again
her baby
in the womb.

Her pulse,
gently throbbing,
ripples through my body —
gently rocking
her baby
to sleep.