Your Way In

I’ve always been

a child of

the grand gesture:

sweeping arms

in gesticulation,

expressing love

unbounded,

and sometimes,

overwhelming,

expecting the same,

from love returned.

 

Now tempered,

by age,

disappointment,

and eyes that see

love

expressed in smaller ways:

morning cup of coffee,

cream,

no sugar,

favorite mug,

delivered.

The wood bin,

filled,

a fire started,

the house growing warmer,

as the day opens.

Your arm,

resting across my body,

as sleep,

takes us both,

into shared stillness.

 

These are your ways in.

 

I will always be,

a child of grand gestures,

but tempered now,

I will try and receive it,

without expectation

of a grand return,

coming to know,

and trust,

your way in.

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