The shape of love
Some part of their body always touching some part of yours. Your days shaped by the rhythm of theirs. Periods of chaos, of anarchy. And then, quiet. Absolute quiet as they give in to sleep. Inordinate amounts of sleep, fourteen, sometimes sixteen hours a day. And what curiosity! Every dangling leaf. Every leaping insect. Every blade of grass. Every dancing scent in the air. They scamper. They lunge. They pretend dig. They run in circles. Afterwards, they happily settle into the familiar. An old blanket that smells of you. A favourite corner of the sofa. A secret place behind the flowerpot, a place of light and shadows. You watch on, amazed, watch them enter every moment, their hearts overflowing with love.