My hand

i see him cradle his head
inside the palm of my hand
it seems to bring comfort
this cushioning, maternal protection

i see him and my heart wells up
with love but also with sadness
that i don't have multiples of these hands
all of them dexterous and able

able to juggle the multitudes I contain
love but also ambition
nurture but also desire
to be more, much more

i wait a split second
then pull my hand away gently
to finish typing that urgent message.
my son must learn to live without