beside me–
"you're a good cuddlebug."
he lifts up his son and holds him tight,
hands rough and worn
(years of music and heaviness).
there is strength.
sweetness.
it is good.

the hand resting in mine.
so light. so ready.
eager to stay,
to kiss
until my lips are raw,
until my hands believe.

smiles, laughter, lightness–
how I wish I could catch them,
carry them in jars
into the dark,
open my hands,
revealing–
light.

dancing.

yes.
it is good.