A Place of Rest

There are moments in the quiet hours

when your hand finds its way to my chest

and your body softens as sleep arrives.

The room is still.

The chair rocks gently.

The world feels far away.

In these moments, I realise something simple and profound:

I am your place of safety.

Not because I have all the answers,

but because I am here.

My warmth.

My heartbeat.

My presence.

This is what you need.

And as you fall asleep against me,

I understand that this —

this quiet holding —

is enough.

It always has been.