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Your hand in mine.
A Walk.
We strolled down the sidewalk.
Or rather, I strolled.
You ran, jumped, skipped,
hopped, and tip-toed.
Your hand in mine made me chuckle to myself.
It seemed so insignificant to the point of hilarity.
Yet, when I looked down at you
and you looked up at me
I saw your face radiant with
youth, joy, trust and happiness
wrapped in the simple form of a smile.
The expression wakened in me a return
but the description different.
My face showed pride and love,
that I created you
and my efforts contributed to
your well-being and happiness.
I had to clutch my breast
to keep my heart from bursting.
