Turn Back the Clock

My tears have shaken him.

He begs,

begging me to reverse my desperation.

I have frightened his boy heart,

perhaps even broken it.


Six words of recklessness,

raking the grief laden air.


We melt together,

his grip holding me here.

Honoring the weight of his anchor, I encircle his body,

catching his fear.


Restless, he sleeps next to me now.

Crying out.


Searching for a good dream.

I watch through liquid eyes,

wishing I could make it 9:02 again.




For my son Nicholas.