I wake afraid from an old man's dream


And reach to cup a hand atop her sleeping belly,


Swelled with five month's work on a new life.


A kick within greets my palm again,


Lively and then again, perhaps to protest


Its prenatal sleep disturbed.


Or are these hiccups tries at speaking,


The rhythmic recognition of my presence,


My shrinking part to play in another story?


Its unrevealed story?


Has it been awake and waiting, maybe even meaning


To stir hope in a spent man with this thumping?


Knowing our joint days are few and I want this consoling


Warm?  Too much to wish....


So I pray that just touch


Will take me through another night,


Or even make a memory


That we will share separately, now and then.