Keeping Still

Keeping Still The fire has burned low my love. I dare not move to fix it. You have fallen asleep against my chest. I feel you breathing. I hear air, moving… in and out… as you slumber. Your hair is a wave of brown, like a warm blanket, the only comparison, a treasure my grandmother, would have made by hand. You smell of the earth. The trees and the outside, have come inside with you. We hiked all morning, and now… they are a pleasant memory, swaying my senses as I sit holding you close, in my arms. The fire has burned low my love. I dare not move to fix it.