My precious little tyke woke me up before first light

voice like the flocks of parakeets in the trees at the

transit center, a wall of noise of voluminous magnitude

makes me smile as I cringe into my pillow.

it’s too early, but never too early to see

his smile, his eyes lit up like picture screens

full of action and love and music and he’s

singing, serenading my weary body as I

switch on the kettle. he knows all the words,

trust me, he’ll say them all before 10 am and he

hugs me and his hugs smell like sunshine of course,

they dance together, in and out, sparkling

all day long. he is the song, the ear-worm

in my head that I’ll never stop singing along to.