Today We Skyped

crossed miles

compressed time

in space a phone call

reducing hours

of yearning and ache

into smiling


gooey oatmeal

mother, child,

on a red spoon

between giggles

as a not quite year old

little boy hears

rhymes from his favorite

books albeit

a bit puzzled

by the lack of arms

cradling his little body

his favorite blankie

and the lap

but he remembers

her voice

and time expands


into new memories

as the Now

fills us both.