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So many things would fall down without you:

The blanket pile, of course, you're nestled in;

The stack of books you're leaning on, a few

Scattered on top that you meant to begin;

The dog stretched out across your lap, still snoozing,

Her little limbs all flopped in full abandon;

The child beside you, obviously using

Your lap as a support for her to land on

Each time she bounces on the couch's springs;

The house itself, though that's a metaphor;

The very world, which only hums and sings

Because you're in it, I am fairly sure.

I know I'd fall, because, you know, I fell

Long years before: I fall with you as well.