A warm voice arriving at day’s end,
like a coat held open — soft, waiting —
asking, “How was it?”
The little dance of dinner plans...
You pick. No, you pick.
Two minds circling the same hunger,
never needing certainty to feel full.
The way peace settles
when you’re not holding the world alone.
And the gentle, chosen touch —
not by chance, not rushed,
but offered like a quiet vow:
I am here, and so are you.
No comments:
Post a Comment