Monday, 18 April 2011

Story-time


Every time I see him pull John onto his lap and open the pages of a book, my soul seems to spin like a Catherine wheel.

Perhaps it's the tender way he holds him, or the quiet enthralment with which he reads even the simplest of tales; perhaps it's the comfortable way in which John settles into the saddle of his lap or the fact that this little vignette fulfils my deepest desires and encapsulates my longest-held dreams.

But whenever I see them cuddled together at story-time and their contentment shines brighter than the lamplight, the love that I feel for these two people seems to crash and collide, and the energy that's created is nuclear.

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