Sing Momma

Sitting in the tranquil tenderness of the flickering flames are the thoughts of the day, emanating from my overstuffed soul.
Watching the day roll out and the settled in stillness of sleep ride in on a train of soft touches-hand in hand-telling me, 'I love you' with the ink of his fingertips.
Nothing spoken, the words formed in bone long before life began.
'Sing Momma, sing me a song.'
'What, my boy?'
'Hmmm...' As if he has too many loved lullabies to choose from.
'My sunshine, my only sunshine.'
He finishes the line with a perfectly pitched, 'Grey.'
Like two tweeting birds, telling a story in a language all their own are my words in a song, the way we speak. The bonds written before breath.
Chosen, our lives,  a long time before our birth. The choice, a question in chance, the many moments along the path to enjoying the journey.
Footprints, fingerprints, countless lines etched in the soul of the world, loved by their creator, knowing the time spent was meant and needed.
Say yes, ride into the waves of joy, sails propelled by the breath of faith.

-AFW