Bound

My finger
Your hand
Once divided
United we stand

Ever bound
Your biology compels it
Cooing sound
A union I won't quit

The baby doesn’t let go. Their grip on anything (even Lint) is locked in. Only I can let go, which is a powerful idea. She’s bound to me, trustfully so.

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Bryan lives somewhere at the intersection of faith, fatherhood, and futurism and writes about tech, books, Christianity, gratitude, and whatever’s on his mind. If you liked reading, perhaps you’ll also like subscribing: