Revisionist Poetry – “The Softest Name for Love” – For the Love of My Child, v.3

I hold my child,
and everything in me answers.

Her fingers, small as promises,
close around my hand;
her eyes, wide with marvel,
seem to gather the world
and give it back to me.

We move together through each day
as through a field of firsts,
where even the simplest things
shine with new life.

Her laughter fills the room.
Her delight enters me
and stays there,
quietly radiant,
like sunlight resting on water.

And there, in the stillness between heartbeats,
I understand what love means:
not only to feel,
but to be transformed
by the one you hold.