My Sweet Baby's Neck

I'm torn between lifetimes

and saddened by how 
my daughter has grown

so unnaturally fast.

I hug her tight 

when we kiss goodnight 

and linger longer than usual

because I need to smell the baby in her.

So I bury my face in her neck

and listen for her baby's breath

in my ear

but it's not there.

Like an angel she giggles anyway

because of course she thinks 

I'm nuts.

I plead with her, "Don't you remember?

Don't you remember when you were a baby

and I'd rock you like this?"

But to her I'm batty

and I don't care

because I'm no longer here.

I'm rocking my baby

the one with the warm neck

who makes sweet baby breathing sounds

in my ear when I hold her

against my shoulder.

From somewhere outside myself

I hear my nine year old laughing

my hair tickles her cheek

and she squirms

but I don't let go.  

I need more time

to loose myself

in my sweet baby's neck.