Rory

Three years ago, I became a mother.
First and foremost, my child.
My star seed, My heart outside my body.
My connect to something deeper and worth being.
No one can stand in the way of the love for a mother and her child.
That doesn't mean the child needs to be from her womb,
or even nourished from her bosom.
Just an expansion of love onto levels you can not understand until you look into dilated pupils of someone who thinks you are a god in their new universe.
Held to the light, Halo, like a first born son.

A family once together,
even now separated will have faith in our child that love prevails.
It resides inside him. A light that shines through his eyes,
his small fingers in my hair, little breaths as he falls asleep,
and the stars that rest on his eyelashes.
Float off to carry dreams, that he'll reach in his future.
That I'll hold him up to reach things now that he will then remember.
He is a universe, my little galaxy that once spun cosmos in the milky way.
Now dancing in rooms with friends,
somersaults and smiles and soft glances up at mom.

My little dreamer.
Hula hooping through Saturn with bouncing planets on a play date.
Now reading me stories I once wrote for you.
Pride-eyes in growing like a flower, the perfect garden.
Apple of my eye.

Happy Birthday Rory Salvatore