A nine year-old Matthew and I,
nap side by side, as close together
as those proverbial peas in a pod.

Holding my breath,
I reach my feet, my hands
toward him in feathery touches,
in order not to break
this precious illusion of life
after 19 years of his death.

Still asleep, he lightly extends
his soft moist hand
to curl it gently in one of mine,
laying it to rest beneath my heart.

I wake in tears,
grateful.

.............................................
* dreamed Easter Sunday 2002