I see you in her

I wake a hundred times a night
to hear, to see, to feel you breathe;
on tenterhooks for any sign
of struggling, or spit-up, or a gurgling wheeze.
And when you finally dissolve
(with heavy eyes, and wrapped in place),
I roll to my side to see your mum’s eyes
but what I see instead is your face.

In my half-awake state, sometimes I’d see Summer when looking at Ashley sleeping.