Where hope, love & gardens grow

I run my fingers first over the rough callus of his hands, then through the soft strands of his hair, reminding myself that this is how lucky I am – to be able to see him rough and soft in turns. Half-awake, he whispers something about going back to sleep as he plants tiny kisses on my collarbone, in that hollow space where hope, love & gardens grow.

Hey, let me know what you think ❤