I wrap my white arms around the
black box where you live now and
listen to you talk to me all night.
One leg tucked under
your hands in your lap
head leaning to the right
resting on the inside of the oven door.
I can hear you humming sometimes
right before I fall asleep
you will always be 8 years old to me
and when I am with you on these secret nights;
so will I.