His Landscape

His fingers play with

my jingle-jangle bracelets.

Wood beads from India,

Chinese coins my friends and I wear,

an eye encased in gold to ward

off evil spirits,

Buddha with a turquoise bead 

and a ladybug. 

He touches them gently

feeling each one,

knowing them the way 

he knows my lullabies.

The way he knows my voice,

when we dream about the moon and the stars.

When I move away he stretches

to find me in his sleep,

to find the curve of my waist,

where I held his father long ago.

I listen to his breath,

his presence fills my soul.

I dream big dreams for him.

I build memories,

they echo the laughter we share.

A landscape he can remember

and carry in his heart,

the way I carry him in my being.