I look at a Facebook photo of a baby sleeping on the indentation of a guitar as his young father strums it quietly. I remember playing the guitar against my protruding belly when I was pregnant for each of my sons. More than sound, this was a bonding between two worlds, still unknown to each other. Love flowed through layers of skin and muscle with every note, every lyric carefully crafted from the wonder, anticipation and unity. This was and is my poetic hum. I ponder the picture again, slightly worried about this tiny bundle nestled rather precariously in the crook of a wooden instrument. Could she slip off? Possibly…but only into loving arms.
love moves beyond walls
love is a constant murmur
love never silent
Written for Poetics ~ your poetic hum,
a thoughtful prompt by Gina at dVerse Poets Pub.
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https://www.faithpot.com/guitar-baby-naptime/
mishunderstood 