The womb beyond the mother waits,
Glowing embers in hearth, warm milk simmering in a pan.
A shared space, as I shared in my own nine month turn, each with their nurturing, warmth, feeding and care.
Time to be rather than do or be done,
Space to see more than to look or be seen
A den of blankets, cushions, duvets, pillows, sheets, snugs, hugs, kisses and cuddles.
No rules, except the rules: kind hands, kind feet, kind words.
To all equal.
To all my heart.
To all my everything.
My hearth, my home.
