Russet Glow

Walking under the stars
Clutching stems, the green hugging the feathery petals
Stroking the rough brick, dusty powder staining my hands
Distant white lights are less than inviting
Stepping forward, the doors slide, tasting fresh air again
Inside. The definition of cleanliness
No speck of dust can survive
Eagerly climbing the laminate stairs, we pause to rub in sanitiser, careful not to drip
We rush through wide corridors dodging freshly made beds ready to fly
We stop. 319
Tap, tap, tap. A gentle knock on the door
Grasping the cold handle, it twists
A tiny smile creeps across my face
And there he was
Big brown eyes taking in the world and his first day on it
A tiny squeal escapes his lips as he curls into a ball missing the comfort of mum
And suddenly I get to scoop him up and feel his heart beat strongly as it should
Slowly rocking, gently hugging
This precious living object
His Kiwi-Colombian cheeks shone a russet glow.