Soft Things

Seeking comfort when we begin,
By lying next to mother’s skin,
In flannel jammies snug for night,
Soft woolen blanket wrapped so tight
Daddy hands out plush new toy,
Is squeezed for infant’s peaceful joy.

Jumping, rolling in piles of pillows,
Fingers touching pussy willows,
Fighting winter’s cold with fleecy hat,
Pressing face in the fur of fuzzy cat,
Hugs through quilts tucked in to bed,
Big hungry bites of warm fresh bread.

Falling on powdered snowy ground,
Laughing in parkas filled with down,
Hands on lightly coated arms so fair,
Cheeks brushed by gently flowing hair,
The tingle from kisses on inviting lips,
A cozy spoon while caressing hips.

It seems as I grow, I also harden,
From worldly hurts, I entreat your pardon,
My creature comforts are not fragility,
Just sensory inputs that bring tranquility,
I look up at the puffy clouds aloft,
And hope not to lose a love for soft.