Is Love...

I close my eyes.

Imagining.

Love wakes me, his voice a low whisper in my ear, “Coffee, baby.”
Languid, I stretch, arching my back, and lazily grin.
Like the coffee’s steam, I rise.
Happy.
As I stand at the kitchen sink, lost in thoughts which float out through the window, a hand playfully grazes my bottom.
Giggle.
Early to work, I open my laptop and find a note “Thinking of you…”
Smile.
Flowers for no reason.
Corrective words in their season.
Kisses on my neck while I’m reading.
Love makes room, expands the circle to let me be me, never constricting but respecting the need for individuality within our bond.
Secure, I grow, reach up and out, and find my way.
Like a vine drawn to the light, I rise.
Nurtured.
Walking the streetside of the pavement, Love protects.
Truck door opened without any prodding.
Love’s lady.
Lady’s Love.
Sheltered from storms, and held in the eye.
Love gives good, and receives good from my hand, my heart.
Small consistent steps make Love’s journey.
The little things.
The “just because’s.”
The longing glances.
Long talks.
Silent steady walks.
The strong hand, warming my cold fingers.
The knowing, and understanding.
Through trial and fire.
Through passion and pain.
In mundane and ordinary.
The “here.”
Love wakes me.

I open my eyes.

Imagining.