If I just stay. Right where you are. If I don’t move a muscle. And the room is just the right darkness. And you are just the right amount of tired. And you don’t stretch for your crib. I get to have this moment. Where the miracle of you is more enoughness than anything else could be for that moment.
If I just stay. Right where you are. You breathe out and I breathe you in. Your chest settles into mine. I count your lashes. One by one. I study the indentations on the side of your nose. And the curve of your ear. And am lost in amazement. That all these parts of you were formed inside of me.
If I just stay. Right where you are. I think, I can’t imagine that perfect could feel any better than this. If but only for that simple moment.
If I just stay. Right where you are. You gift me with a somedays needed reminder. That this stage will soon be gone. And all I will have is the memory of this moment. And I am content to have chosen to stay. Right where you are.