Grounding Exercise

Poetry

Dishes in the sink;
sweat stains on the couch;
the smell of old wood.
Light filters through windows
in prisms of color
that streak the ground in pastel rainbows.
Particles of dust dance in the air–
an everlasting waltz.
His skin smells of soap and spice.
The stubble on his cheek
leaves trails of red across soft, pale skin.
Calloused and scarred fingers
trace gentle circles on my hips,
reminding me ever gently
that this is love;
this is life;
this is home.

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