Does love need a spoken language?

The gaze holding yours with such power that your soul is laid bare…

The scent of that little head, sweet despite hair tangled with food, mud, and other strange objects whose history you can’t begin to guess…

The thin hand that grips your wrist ferociously, nails digging in hard enough to draw blood…

The embrace that’s so gentle, and yet strong enough to hold pain and rage…

The tears that power a swift smile to pierce your heart…

The trust that gives thin arms the strength to hold on to you…

It’s love’s own language.

Without words.

Krishna’s and mine, holding us together even when we’re apart.

PS: Krishna is in surgery today, undergoing a full mouth rehabilitation.