He could hear her heartbeat like a timeless clock echoing away through the night from
across the room; he could feel her breath push the currents of hope through the night air;
He could smell the sweet scent of her hair that caused his stomach to melt like the
cookies the child in him had in a house he longed for once again, sitting there, on
her windowsill, night after night.
Who is he? He doesnıt know. Where did he come from? He cannot tell. As if he drifted
like a message in a bottle into her life, he is there, always, waiting, watching and
protecting. He was there when she fell off the saw in grammar school. He was
there when her bike threw her into a ditch like a bull bucking the last rider. On her
16th birthday he was in the car when it went off the road into a ditch. Her family
and friends often wonder how she has survived this far. They never complain. The
will never have to worry as long as he is there.

To him:

She is the first breath a baby takes.
She is the first flight a bird makes.
She is the dewdrops on the morning grass.
She is the lipstick left on a whine glass.
She is the sun that brings life to the night.
She is the moon that hangs in the twilight.
She is the butterflies in the stomachs of young lovers.
She is the stars that fill the night sky.
She scared child beginning to cry.
She the heart of the lion, king of the beasts
She is the starving child enjoying its firs feast.
She is the raindrop that gives all of life
She is the pain that cuts like a knife.
She is every feeling rolled into one.
Without her, his life would be undone.

Night after night he watches he sleep peacefully like a child resting between itıs mother
and father, safe, comfortable, and without worry. Some nights he catches
himself wondering what it will be like when she needs him not. Where will he go?
What will he do? She will always need him and he will always be there. But still he worries.

He has followed her through her life, like a proud father, a protective brother, and a
passionate lover. He has watched her love, he has watched her lose, he has been
there for it all and no one can take that from him.
Sitting there in the windowsill one night, staring up at the moon, he watches the leaves
through the moonlight as they are awakened in the darkness by a slight breeze.
The shadows dace across her walls like children on the playground going in a
chaotic direction. He follows the wall to her nightstand where a picture of her
mother and father stands. The picture is old and unflattering, but it is her favorite,
she doesnıt even mind that it sits crooked in the old rusted frame that was given to
her. Her glass of water rests still, her lip impression still barley visible as the light
from the moon passes through it creating a circular glow onto her nightstand. His
eyes go directly to her lips.

So soft and gentle they are as he outlines every line and color that fill the lips he longs
to kiss. Standing over her with the moon light passing through him like the glow of a
yard light through an old window of a wore down house, he brushes his hand
against her cheek, neither can feel it, but he knows its there. He had always
hoped, just for a moment, she could feel that. If she could only feel that she would
know, just what it felt like, to not ever to have to worry about being loved again.

Sometimes she talks in her sleep. He tries not to listen. But sometimes, she is talking to
someone and it is not anyone he knows. She speaks to this person of love and life
and the dream thereafter but a name is never mentioned, and the dream is never
completed. Sometimes she will wake up, rise out of bed and smile and roll over and
go back to sleep. He often hopes she is smiling at him. To him they are silly
thoughts and he gets a chuckle out of it. But what if, just what if she is smiling at
him? Although a silly notion, this ray of hope burns a hole through his stomach
sometimes and he canıt get the thought out of his head. Maybe, just maybe one day,
she will smile at him, and say ³ good night, love, I'll see you in the morning. ³

He smiles.

Many years have passed and his nights by her side have never ceased. He has seen her
through cancer. He has watched her give birth. He has seen her bury her
husband and her son. This old woman that came from the young lady he knew,
never changed in his eyes. Her body has aged in the years that have passed. Like
the old house that still stands, she endures time, and time again, never to fall.
But she grows tired. She grows lonely.

She still talks to a stranger in the darkness. The person that lives in her dreams that still
visits her at night still comes around. Tonight she rose up out of bed and didnıt smile.
She stared straight ahead and sighed and rolled over and cried herself back to sleep.
Kneeling by her bed, he only wished to know what was causing the pain she was
suffering. It burned inside of him like alcohol on a fresh wound. All he could do was
rest his head beside her and made sure nothing happened as she slept.
She is talking in her sleep again tonight. She really loves the man in her dreams. He
could only hope that she would find him soon and that he loved her as much as she
loved him. The wind is blowing hard tonight, no moonlight, just a small glow
from a lap on her nightstand that was left on. She wakes up crying tonight. His
heart sinks. There is nothing he can do and he feels helpless. Watching the woman
of the past, so full of life and hope, be worn down into the lonely woman
she had become was heart breaking. Where oh where was the man in the dream to
come make her feel safe and alive again?

He watches her as she pulls a bottle from the top drawer of her nightstand, empty the
contents into her mouth and drinks her water.
He panics and rushes by her side screaming out into the night for her to stop. His
screams go unheard. Like the vacuum of space, they go nowhere and he knows it.
On his knees by her side he watches her swallow the last of the pills helplessly.
Through the tears streaming down his face he begs and pleads with her, as she
drifts off to sleep not to wake up again.
That night he sits in her windowsill watching an empty bed. The bed guarded with pride,
loyalty, honor, and above all, love for so many years, was empty and hollow,
like his heart grew. She was his only love, she was all he knew. She was everything to him.
If he could have only told her it would have all been worth it. He glances up at the
moon as these thoughts flood his head. As his mind was about to drown in a sea of
lost hopes and broken dreams, the soft touch of a young womanıs hand caresses
his cheek. He turns to see the young woman of yesteryear. His hear melts and his
eyes fill with tears and she kisses him softly on the lips and says
³good night love, Iıll see you in the morning.²



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