en hush

stillness with only the soft noises of her sleeping body. I read from my book ideas on joy and life and God, the pages turning like the thoughts of my mind. Only in gentle passing do I feel the touch of her leg or the brush of her hand as I lie there in the dim. But even as I mull over the words before me I am ever keenly aware of her presence. I've turned out the lights and pulled the bedding from its place and wrapped it around her as she lays on the floor with that angel expression she always wears while sleeping. She stirs and I turn from my book. Pointing the flashlight away I lean close to her whisper of a pain. I brush softly through her hair and slowly stroke her face. I speak quietly. And then her sweet and sleepy reply "I love you too."