You Breath In. You Breath Out.

The lights are dimmed in the living room. There's you and there's me. The house is quiet except for the swishing of the dishwasher in the background and the rhythm of your snoring against my chest. 

You breath in. You breath out. You occasionally bob your head back and forth. It's no bother. You always return to nestling into my chest. 

Your little round fingers gently cling to my sweater. Your chubby legs wrap perfectly around me. 

You breath in. You breath out. You release your grip on your nook as you give in to the sleep that has overcome you. 

Your long arms now hang limp against my sides. Your breath grows deeper. Your chest goes in and out against my own.

It's time. Another day has come to a close. Another day has passed. In the darkness I slowly lift out of our sofa. Your arms continuing to dangle at my side. You stir ever so slightly only to return to your deep slumber. 

We take the twenty steps between your bedroom and the living room ever so gently. Unbeknownst to you, we sway, I leave room for kisses, and I whisper how much I love you into your ear. 

In the darkness of your room, the sound of waves pouring over the background, I tenderly lay you in your crib. Arms still limp, breath still deep, I quietly walk myself out of your room and leave you to your dreams. Always whispering "I love you" as I close your door.