Morning moments of a new kind of day. A new kind of way. He woke to a sleeping love, peaceful, no soaked sheets, no nightmares, just her, the lovely girl. A luminous intensity, pale met rosy-cream pictures, lying in his bed, remembering her, and the way they moved together just last night. He laid watching her, lost in lightening moments. He thought to take a pen and write it down, to tell someone. His need to express overwhelmed him.
Unable to wait any longer, he leaned forward and gently pushed his nose against hers. Small touches in place of words, small actions forever meaning more. She shifted and stirred, lightly groaning for being woken. Eyes fluttered, no letting up, she knew he was there, a smile as big as his heart, reflecting back. And it was okay. It was more than.
“Morning, pretty girl.”