My days are lonely ones. Doing dishes or laundry, finding something for dinner. The time passes slowly, and the clock glares at me with morning hours for what seems like eternity. Ah but the time must come for you to arrive, late in the afternoon. You walk in the door, and usually tell me about work, or traffic; complain about bills or the truck not starting again. You get so involved in your story, you don't notice my smile. Boy am I glad to see you; I'm glad that you are home. Opening the fridge, you pull out some soda, rambling on about this or that. Sometimes I listen, but not today. Today I am lost in looking at you, taking in all of you. You have such a firm grip around the two liter. Your hands are so big and rough. A man's hands. Your shoulders are wide, and arms big enough to swallow me in comfort when we embrace. The hair on your chin casts a shadow telling that you haven't shaved in a few days. The sweat under your hat makes your hair go in all directions. A shower would be in your best interest.
But you smell so good. Maybe its what you ate for lunch. I just don't want to stop hugging you yet.
The dryer buzzes and my job must resume again, but I can't take my eyes off of you. I want to lose myself in these moments with you. I want them to last forever, but I know they can't. All I can hope for is that these moments keep happening, and all I do is look forward to the next touch, the next kiss.