Utensils...

I always notice the feet first,
either toe on toe, or intertwined
mine, yours, mine.
Crossed and resting,
never restless then.

Then the legs.
Strength, warmth,
snugly pressed against hamstrings.
Knees like dovetail joints;
supportive.

You.
Likely asleep,
ever so slightly, brushing my bum.

A great warmth,
never hot,
covers my back.
The consistent rhythm of your breathing,
a Morse code of life on my shoulder.

hand on my hip,
or drawing me close,
securing my safety,
my protection.

Occasionally a whisper,
too removed to decipher and non-responsive.
But always about me, us.

my spoon.