Tiny toes that curl into the carpet;
I count the wrinkles,
each indent, each rivet.
Time could not erase them from my memory.
The little lips smile
and a gurgly giggle emerges from in between them.
This is love, I know,
I think to myself as the infant rolls over.
Thank you for reading and sharing your thoughts with me in the comments below.
” Me and the pen, we are one. If its ink would cease to flow, my ink would cease to flow.”