Sometimes I shift and move not wanting to be awake but there nevertheless. So I look your way, strain to hear the inhales and exhales, and I watch you sleep. You've always looked good sleeping. Handsome man that you are, mature now. Those long thick wavy strands sheared to the short dark style. It all looks good on you. I'm still captivated. Your mouth closed, your moustache streaked with gray, one arm cranked around your pillow, the sheet and blanket tossed back halfway sometimes. You sleep sound. At peace. Even through my tosses and turns. The tumult silenced. I'm grateful not to disturb you. Love's forms. Years in the making. Finally real.
Father, thank you for the one I love. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.