Sometimes when you're sleeping, I just stare into your beautiful, silent face. So still, so restful. You just seem so small, and so young. It seems that I must have imagined that such a small, beautiful boy could have had me run ragged today, or that there could ever possibly be something "different" about you. When you sleep, you look like all others, somewhere else.
Everyone is in their own world when they're sleeping.
And, when you're sleeping, I feel the desire to gather you up, hold you so close, drink deeply your freshly-bathed scent. I am able to trace the outline of your cheek, without being brushed away.
Your little hands folded and quiet, your feet finally finished their day's journey.
In the morning you will rise, and your first couple of minutes will tell me which kind of day we will have. But for now, you sleep. And I continue my dreams for you...