shape of our love

Dog chewing bone
like crackling thunder in sky
the song of crickets
on the other side of the house
speaking of tented summer evenings
pregnant moon with sleepy joy
silly things and spurting laughter
under secret sky.
From the lounge come your deep voices
different timbres
like lumberjacks splitting trees
so very male
the three of you.
Whilst here, in the gentle ocean that is our bed
I sit, with our daughter
cross-legged
in her grey tights
writing page after page in her eight-year old diary
while I write in mine
two women
loving words on a page
silent
hopeful
dreaming
wishes spiralling
the shape of our love rests here
my hand in hers
my toes playing with hers