Oh sweet boy, you are to me,
Like a whistle is to its swing,
As a piece of sand is to the sea,
Or a leaf is to rooted tree.
Your head nestled close to mine,
Is as a tock is to its time,
A VHS clicked to rewind,
Linked as ink is to its line.
The steady stream of your breath,
Mingled close to my breast,
A moment I dare not let,
Escape my heart, not now, not yet.