tossed salad and scrambled eggs.
Arrival at last, no later than usual, touching her head softly with warm lips and a gentle brush with two fingers over her lively glow of REM. She sleeps so sound, I walk past, in a haze of envy. The ability to recognize the need for sleep was never one I learned or piled into a list of valid things to do in my lifetime. Maybe one day I would add that measure to my long list of things I'd never get around to doing. As I'm walking through the room, straightening herself, she stammers between dry, sleep swollen lips, "You're home." Stopping, whisper finds its audible way into the air, "Yeah." That's all to be said that's all I have to say. I'm not much for talking now. Tonight is a thinking mood. I'll just lie there, envying her sleeping, shut, rolling eyes. Maybe tonight, I'll write another song.