I watch his sleeping face
In the seat next to mine
Leaning on the window of the plane
Pimples and their traces on forehead
A thin line of hair on upper lip
Few strands hanging from the chin
A foot taller than me
Now he reaches
The topmost shelves
Opens the tightest jar lids
But is too proud to ask for help
How I miss
Gathering him
Pecking his cheek
Tousling his hair
Tugging him along
And then he stirs
Rolls his head
Onto my shoulder
My heart explodes
But I hold very still
Stop my fingers
From combing his hair
I just cradle the moment
My baby resting
On my shoulder again
