fatherhood

so I haven't been sleeping again
I'm spending my days stumbling
with caffeine-red eyes,
barely a sideways step from it

from this idyll that grabs me
when I sleep;
snatches of a future
I haven't earned yet

the peace that waits
with my children
the moments I long for
when I wake

dances in ornate halls and dresses
the meeting of breaths
and the clarity
of something yet to be remembered

and now I'm afraid to close my eyes,
to grasp again at something
so easily stolen
by the birth of daylight

and the dying feeling
of a tiny hand in mine