Well, son, you’ve found it

I brush my stubbly cheek against your soft face,
and yet you don’t push away.
Instead you push your head into the softest part of my neck,
looking for a safe place.
Well, son, you’ve found it,
much like you found your way into the softest part of my heart.

I spend my mornings waiting for a glimpse
of your sweet laugh,
your newest sound,
your latest move.

I wonder what you wonder as you stare into our eyes
gazing back at you.
What we see is our proof of any good in the world.
Proof that any sense of joy we had prior to your arrival
could be maximized infinitely.

Could you even know the immensity of our adoration?
Maybe not.
Maybe never.
But if anyone could, it’d be you.