I live for the anticipation of those sleepy Sunday mornings, where the sun will rouse us from our lovers' slumber. We shall stir, but not move from that heap of sheets, afraid to lose the moment, the lovely contentment. None will dare intrude, and we shall be happy to pretend for a few minutes that nothing else exists outside our own bubble of satisfaction.
The world may beckon and call, and we shall rise to obey its every command, but not before we let ourselves enjoy those blessed moments with one another. They are all that shall matter, when one day we sit ourselves down and count our lives in moments.
I know that those times will come, I see them, hidden in your eyes; I see the promise in your disarming smile. I know that I will feel them when I can sit and watch you sleep.