Where My Heart Resides

How strange that my heart
should reside outside my chest.
I can feel it beating,
its steady drum dance
when I hold him,
when I press my lips to his forehead.
When he goes to sleep at night
I admit that I take a peek or two
I spy on his slumber
and wonder
about his dreams, his future.
I worry, as I suppose all mothers do,
for his happiness, his health.
So I pull him to me,
cuddle him close,
and get lost in our music.