Hassan Iftikhar Poetry

I coddle you, cuddle you, hold you like a baby.
Your little legs, not quite as chubby as they once were,
dangle well past my arms.
My baby still, you wiggle away from my kisses
and giggle, knowing I just want to squeeze you.
You playfully prance just outside my reach.
Still soft and squishy, cherubic,
but slimming down and growing tall.
Your fingers look like little girl's
instead of tiny baby's,
and now, they shimmer with pink sparkles.
You dress yourself in mismatched clothes,
dress shoes without socks and terry cloth shorts.
You make me smile.

So when you crawl into my lap and say,
"Mommy, rock me,"
I hold you tight and stroke your hair
and kiss your forehead and squeeze your chubby thighs
and sigh.

Poet: Delilah Coyne