Between Bruises and Blooms

Everyone said
she’d sleep eventually.

As if babies
carry clocks
instead of curiosity.

But here you are,
wide-eyed at midnight,
telling stories
in a language
only the moon seems to understand.

Your sister surrendered
to dreams hours ago.

The dogs have stopped wandering.

Even the house
has learned
to whisper.

But not you.

You grin
like we’ve discovered
a secret hidden inside the dark.

You hand me invisible treasures,
babble with absolute confidence,
and laugh
as if staying awake
is the greatest adventure
either of us has ever known.

One day,
you’ll be too big
to fit against my chest.

One day,
you’ll tell me
you’re too old
for midnight cuddles.

One day,
these hours
will belong to memory.

So tonight,
I’ll keep pretending
I’m not tired.

I’ll answer every babble
like it’s the most important conversation
I’ve ever had.

Because someday,
when the house is quiet again,

I’ll miss the nights
when one little girl
refused to sleep…

and gave her mama
a few more hours
to fall in love with her.