Life is good

He's long and lean and wiry and he moves with the unconscious grace of a man who knows his body is just a shell for his spirit, and thus occupies it completely, without hiding inside it. He slides back into bed with me, his arms and his leg wrap around me and encircle me with absolute love and complete acceptance and understanding. His hand threads through my hair and holds my head against his chest, regularly squeezing me to him and murmuring sweet words of joy and fulfillment.

I am not silent in this. I have my own words of delighted satisfaction that spill over; I couldn't contain them if I tried. I am purring and squeezing him back.

"Life is good with you." he tells me as I gaze adoringly up at him.

Sweeter words were never spoken.