I lie here
one hand on his cheek
thumb running back and forth,
the other clasped with his.
I watch him.
His eyes are open
staring in another direction
shifting in thought.
Spending time in silence
after discussing others lack of confidence
in us.
I study every inch of his face;
side burns that end
at the bottom of his ears,
lips that look as soft as they feel.
Light shines through the window behind him
outlining new stubble on his upper lip.
His nose points down just a little
and his hair swoops onto his forehead
making him look like
my own personal Superman.
Each time I rub his cheek
makes it harder not to love him
and each moment that goes by
is a moment less.
Soon he will leave to fight for millions
and I will fight for us alone.
But I will still try to imagine him
next to me,
one hand clasped with mine.