The way you cuddle into blankets often;
How every time your silenced cellphone rings
You panic; how your eyes begin to soften
The moment that our daughter reaches out;
The way you smile, both when you are posed
(A false facade infused with your self-doubt)
And when you mean it (wide and unenclosed);
The different ways you walk, depending on
Whether you feel happy or are stressed;
How you will pout when all the coffee's gone
Then brighten when I hand you all the rest.
These moments are my treasure, and I hoard 'em
Even when you think I might die of boredom.
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