Once, in the blackness of night,
I would gently lay my hand
upon your doll sized chest,
place my ear against the red ripeness
of your lips, and listen
to the sound of the soft whispering
– in and out, a tiny pause,
and it begins again –
of the beauty that is
You’re bigger now,
but somehow it remains
my most beautiful thing.
Like an invisible heart-line
between your breath and mine,
its rhythmic flow, a soothing meditation,
a peace-filled reminder of all that is,
of all that is possible,
and of all that matters.
Fiona Robyn, of Writing Our Way Home, has recently published a novel titled My most beautiful thing, which you can find out more about by clicking on the link below. Right now she is offering it free for kindle on amazon.
As part of this, she has also invited people to write about their own ‘most beautiful thing’, which I have done above. I wonder what you would choose?