We are threaded together.
Interwoven.
You are a weft to my warp, and together we make something more than mere threads.
We are held together with something stronger then blood.
Commitment and care.
Love and attchment.
Sometimes my arms are tired.
But you still need me and I need to carry on.
So, we sling a while, we chat a while,
whilst we walk a while, or cook or shop and carry on
the daily tasks of life. Together.
Buckled up, snuggled in, arms and fabric stretched
tight around your sleeping form.
Knotted together
Inextricably tangled, we are forever a part of each other.
These tools have changed my life.
But not as much as you, precious child.
Jen Littlejohns, 2017
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