Soft alabaster skin rub against mine as you smother me with baby kisses, uttering some meaningful anecdotes in your special language. Out of all that you say in random, unscripted mellifluous gargles of blissful innocence, I can only feel the clutch of your tiny grasp tightening on my cheeks each time you say mummum! A spit bubble breaks at the edge of your little rosy lips as you curl them to suck in my cheek, and the drool leaves a moist trail of inexplicable love on mine.
I look at you, the flower of my love, my divine and passionate conspiracy with all that's beautiful, pure, sacred, honest and good in this world and beyond. You are the child of my deepest desires, my truth and my honor and we have no one but each other to trust. We have a secret of sharing a body, and a soul.
You are restless, you want a new toy, you want to get out of the confines of my arms and explore the earth, the sky, the wind, the water and the fire.
After all, freedom was the only mantra I had taught you when you were in my womb. "To break free from the shackles that hold you, the psychological bindings are the first ones to severe," I had said. Cut them clean and let not the red chords with blood running through them chain your soul. Break free my child, push your way through the darkness of the hot and moist tunnel and you shall see the light. I recited that mantra to you each night as I breathed for you and filtered life in to your lungs.
Now I find myself running after you, scared out of my wits, unsure, uncertain how the world would protect the flower of my love. Your physical intimacy has aroused my weaknesses and I shudder at the thought of an unsafe, unprotected world closing on you.
You are at the edge, and just as I see you look over the boundaries that limit your sight, I suddenly know what you will do next.
You spread your arms to fly...