As the dust settles,

traffic jams dispersed,

derailed trains and building blocks

swept away into boxes;

adult space is reclaimed.

Calm slips in gradually with evening

as jostling activity fuelled by active minds

is soothed into rest by lavender bubbles.

Favourite pyjamas, hugs and stories,

minty toothpaste smiles, gaps admired,

pen marks scrubbed and bruises caressed.

Prayers and worries of the day, shared,

placed into Jesus’ hands.

Downstairs, a sigh, a coffee

pause in motherly activity.

Then tiptoeing back

to steal a gaze,

watching each in turn.

Heads with hair tousled on pillows,

limbs abandoned.

A mother’s privilege,

secret moment to drink in the peace.

Soft light shows smiles and frowns

dissolved by sleep,

tears and scuffles all resolved.

Long lashes rest on velvet soft cheeks,

years roll back as

baby pouts return and

gentle rhythm of breathing

whispers all is well.

Asleep and beautiful are my sons

with the murmurings of dreams on their lips,

as still deep within imaginations stir,

crafting games,

processing the adventure which is life,

where good-guy superheroes always win

and the world is saved again.

 © Alison Stedman 2016
from Raised From Dust, published by Onwards and Upwards