Cocoon

Comfort is the warmth of a dogs soft ears,

the smile of an old friend,

the sink of a well-worn mattress,

and the sense of having years to spend.

It is the pale rings on wood where mugs have been laid,

holding secrets and stories across the years.

It is the worn grass where feet have made their way

in rambling desire paths.

Comfort is holding yourself gently,

being kind to your mind and body.

It is the thing with tired eyes and soft edges.

The thing that sleeps and eats and lets its fat roll withour fear.

Comfort is the quiet of the morning,

and the slow breathing,

and the dust motes in golden light.

It is the grip of a warm hand,

or the wrinkle at the corner of an eye.

Or this -

Just us.

Carrying the night in cupped hands,

spilling its joy into others glasses.