More than a face.

In the stillness of first morning I saw you. A shape and form reaching for my senses, through that struggling light between us. Making out your face was easy, an angelic face; your eyes were closed and certainly you were somewhere more perfect than here. In a dream perhaps.

Ripe and supple, those dark pink lips rested so lightly together, yet they gave the impression of being solid - there, and responsive.

A dash and a wisp of hair fell, suddenly to adorn your soft frame and I swear my pulse grew tighter.

And you moved under that thick cover. You were more than a face, and I missed you.

I love you.