Between Bruises & Blooms

The house is finally quiet now,
but only because
the sun has already climbed
high enough
to forgive another sleepless night.

Tiny feet,
tiny cries,
tiny hands reaching through crib rails
as though sleep
were something to be feared.

The clock says three.
Then four.
Then five.

We bargain with yawns,
warm bottles,
soft lullabies,
and whispered promises
that tomorrow
will surely be different.

It never is.

Morning arrives
while our eyelids still ache,
and the world wonders
why the curtains stay closed
a little longer.

Because our midnight
didn’t end
when yours did.

It stretched into dawn,
wrapped in cuddles,
teething tears,
and sleepy kisses
pressed against tired cheeks.

So yes—

we sleep in.

Not because we’re lazy,
but because love
keeps impossible hours.

And someday,
when little feet no longer pad
through the hallway before sunrise,

I’ll miss
every exhausting,
beautiful,
sleep-deprived morning
that began
long before the day did.