Zo Blijft het Warm

Before the house had words for it, He was on the floor, reasoning heat into silence, sealing pipes and grooves, to drive the cold into retreat. Devotion often arrives as labour. Riding through the cold wind to him, bringing dinner like a small fire. I cooked for you, But you fed this home first— with strength, with tenderness, with the kind of love that lives in effort. This house will know us because it learned your love first. Thus love, made work, asks neither praise nor proof: it keeps its word by sheltering them both.