Mother's day, 2013,
I rearranged my life.
"Does this look like two lines to you?",
inquired my hopeful wife.
The minecraft game I set aside
was where your crib now stands;
the little strip of paper
was shaking in my hands.
Fear turned into wonder,
and confidence to doubt,
as everything that mattered in the world
just faded out.
Our cats are just our pets now,
furry kids no more,
you chase them 'round the living room,
across the dirty floor.
I don't need an alarm clock,
before the sun to rise,
the boundless joy upon your face
drives sleep out of my eyes.
I used to think that I was tough,
scars of my youth abound,
but when you feel an ounce of pain,
it hits me like a pound.
They say that children change you,
you'll never be the same;
chaos reigns and everything you loved
goes down in flame.
But honestly, it doesn't matter
if any of that's true;
my biggest contribution to this world thus far
Thursday, September 11, 2014
Saturday, September 6, 2014
|The evolution of eating a cucumber|
|Portrait with a bow|
|Portrait of a sleeping babe on her mother's back|
|Portrait of a beautiful dress|
|Portrait of sheer bliss|
|Portrait of a cat and his girl|
|Portrait of a girl and her dad, bucking 'traditional gender roles'|
|Portrait of an early age interest in dentistry|
|A portrait of surprise|
|A portrait of happiness incarnate|