A Steady Warmth - A Love Poem

I didn’t fall for you all at once. You arrived slowly, in the way

mornings arrive— soft light finding its place. You became familiar before you became

necessary, a presence I stopped questioning, like breath, like the sound

of my own name spoken kindly. With you, love is not a storm.

It is a steady warmth, hands fitting without effort, silences that don’t

ask to be filled. I carry you in ordinary moments— in pauses,

in glances, in the calm certainty that something good has chosen to stay.

If love has a language, ours is spoken quietly, but it lasts.