He watched her sleep.

Peaceful  like a two year old finally in her world.

He missed her.

He missed her laughter and the nonstop chatter.

Long hair fell across her face in curls.

Long eye lashes heavily shut on closed eyes.

A hand hugging tightly a pillow with baby fingers.

He liked her hands, liked their baby fingers entangled in his, walking down together in the cold night while she huddled against him.

Laughter, eyes that sparkled while she tried to make sense of nonsense, arguments which he alone could comprehend.

He wanted to brush away the curls, see her face as it lacked all the animations , or the confused expressions in her eyes.

He wanted to see her in her angelic grace,(which fell upon her only in her sleep) while the childish devil in her was dormant.

The morning rays fell on her bare cheek, her neck and the red satin.

He would not touch her.

He walked out.

Into his room.

In silence.

To wait for her to wake up and rush in.

Rush in to wake him as he lay pretending to be fast asleep

waiting for her to rush in…