A Work in Progress

What does happiness feel like?
a cool breeze on your parched skin?
the smell of the ocean on your approach to the beach?
the sound of crickets under the soft, moonlit sky, lost in a secluded countryside?
maybe the taste of a home-cooked meal after some time away?
or the sight of your mother, tears in her eyes, because you’ve been gone for so long?
of these things, I know very little, but the knowledge I have is much more valuable to me.
Happiness is in fact,
the feeling of your hand in mine
the smell of your hair as you nuzzle yourself into my arms before bed
the creaking of our front door opening as you return from an eternity at work
the taste of your lips, hard-pressed against mine as if letting go would kill us both
and the smile you can’t contain paired with your gaze, unwavering, centered solely on me, as you put words to our love.
Happiness is your life and mine, perfectly, seamlessly, forever intertwined.

Author's Note

The title isn't a work in progress, but I believe love is a work in progress and titled it as such.

Reviews

[jacob erin-cilberto]

i really like this and absolutely relate...I remember that possibility being there a long time ago...sometimes we go down opposite roads...but that road at one time found me intertwined with someone really special.
j.

[Gee]

Like this lots. Have just ( yesterday) celebrated 25 years of marriage and can relate to all of the above and add that silences now are no longer awkward, a flower given is as special as a diamond and a smile across a crowded room heart warming.