He loved watching her doze on the couch-in front of the TV
Or on the recliner across the room with a book in her lap.
She worked hard, he knew. Sleep would overtake her before she was quite ready.
Or maybe she was ready-maybe she liked it this way
Surrendering to fatigue in the living room.
Her head would loll to one side or the other and the dark bangs she twitched at incessantly would be free to cascade over her cheek.
He would allow his gaze to stroke her face
Her cheekbones-high and handsome
The tiny nose with the little bump on the bridge that he didn’t quite understand.
She could have that fixed-but it did impart character
True beauty was not sterile perfection: bumps and tweaks were fine.
Her lips-slack and slightly parted
Past the tiny dip between her collarbones
To the gentle rise of her breasts.
Watching her doze like this-in the light of the front room was almost better
than watching her sleep in bed-
Where in the dim glow of the clock he could trace the outlines of
Of course, she undressed in the bedroom.
He could not believe that he had found her-
That she was his and his alone after such a long and lonely journey.
At times like this he considered himself the luckiest man alive.
He heard a door open across the street and pulled away from the window.
He easily slipped deeper behind the hedge and moved toward the back of the house.
It was a dark night-especially in the back.
He could spare some time to wait at the bedroom window.
Hopefully she’d be wearing the green pajamas.