I brush your golden-yellow curls, soft and wispy and fuzzy like wind-swept clouds, with my fingertips as you lay facing me ready to drift off to sleep.
Sounds of waves and chirping sea birds fill our room, artificial but they help you sleep, and the breeze from the fan caresses our skin.
I look into your heavy-lidded eyes as they lose focus and begin to close, translucent sea glass, the blue of the ocean, their interiors flecked with little bits of sand.
You are my beach baby.
From your hair that is my sunshine to your eyes that are my sand and water,
From your toes that are wiggly little sand crabs to your laugh that dances on the wind like so much sea spray,
You are made from the bits and pieces of the place I am happiest and most at home.
In your face, in your eyes, in your toes and hair and soft smushy skin that emits a sun-kissed glow, there exist all of the elements that reach into my soul like so many jellyfish tentacles tickling the various parts of my memory and painting this picture for me.
When you have laughter in your eyes, they flicker and flash like the light reflecting on the surface, bouncing and dancing across the waves of your curls, a rippling current around your head.
When you cry, I taste the saltwater that flows down your little round sand dune cheeks as I kiss away your tears.
We were meant for each other, in the endless ebb and flow, the eternal give and take. Sometimes you crash against me in anger and frustration, only to wrap your arms around me, gripping tightly, forever pulling me back to you.
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