4pm
And I awake from a dream with fog clouding my sight. Turn on my phone and see missed calls from you.
"I love you. Please call me when you wake up."
What a beautiful thing.
Next hour we are cruising down the street. Windows down. Hair flying. Singing along to Zac Brown band. Your hand on my knee.
What a beautiful thing.
Forever in my days here I am the world of these little smiles.
Every morning I walk into a room and almost fall to my knees with all the little arms that embrace me. Almost am tackled by them wanting to show me love.
I come home feeling my heart sink a little lower.
I see faces plastered all over my media addiction.
How lovely would it be to feel loved.
No, not needed; but loved. For words mean nothing without action.
Being real this time, is it too much to ask?
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