Vigilance

The toy slips from my fingers
And caring not, I watch it fall
My son continues play, on and
Around me (though rarely with)
He feels not this sense of doom
Impending

I gather him in my arms
And hold his growing body tight
As he squirms and says
"Momma, no!" and grunts
His efforts to escape my arms
Restraining

He feels no sense of doom
No nameless dread or formless
Fear. He wishes only to be fed
And tickled and talked to
And (if I'm lucky) held
Adoringly

Perhaps he has it better than I
Perhaps there is nothing to fear
But after almost throwing this away once
And once having it nearly ripped
From my grasp, I remain
Vigilant