I come home to see a faint orange glow in the left-most window on the second floor. He's still awake. I am tiptoe-ing anyway, and then opening the door with a bang in the hopes he'll come out. The lights are on in the kitchen; the fan is running. There are messages on the machine. I move toward his room and hope to run across him, to walk straight into him and he is beaming, coming out moving through the wooden frame to join me.

Silence.

I sneak through the doorway to the sight of only feet, then long legs in dark pajamas, running clockwise to my vision. Perfect stillness. He is draped out across his bed, his arms tucked softly under his head and a book by his side, his alarm not set, his clothes in a mess all over. He was waiting up. I guess. It's clear he didn't make it, but this is a present almost as sweet as his smile.

I want to tuck him in but he is lying on the covers. He gets a kiss on the cheek before I turn off his light, close the door and go to work. He rustles gently and looks like he might wake, but just turns, snuggles closer to his pillow and burrows down, nestles soft, and looks like he feels safe.

I'm glad that I could give this to you, glad that you are here.

I wave at him with a kiss on my fingertips and then whisper out goodnight, sad that this is his last night. I am going to miss him. But for now I am just looking forward to the morning, suspicious he will make me coffee, and eager to tell him stories about today.

I tend to be the last one to drift into the restful repose when we curl around each other. I might be engrossed in a book as you slip in beside me, tired from working or loving, your skin warm and familiar as my own, a subtle tan against the alabaster of my English heritage. Your dark lashes curl against your cheek, veiling the laughing emerald green eyes that hold me entranced. You caress your cheek along my skin finding a hollow to rest in and bring your body against me. Finally an arm with its gentle hand snakes across me to hold me while you sleep. I watch the care of the day slip away as sleep takes hold. Your dark curls resting against my shoulder, so tempting to run my fingers through but to do so would spoil the peaceful smile that curls across your strikingly pink lips. Your breathing deepens and your legs curl around mine in an attempt to get closer. Your scent of muskiness and vanilla is a gentle tease as your hold tightens in a dream. The warm line of your body against mine is comforting, from the scratchiness of your chest, the silkiness of the boxers to the roughness of your feet. The joy of watching you sleep, the man I love, is one to cherish and hold, it is a closeness that is too precious not to share.

You are always still slumbering when I rise from the arms of rest. An arm curled under the pillow you hug and your face serene. Your long hair bound in a golden plait snaked around your neck so as I do not lie on it in the night. Your cheeks are flushed, the pink a strong contrast to the whiteness of your skin. Your long eyelashes fluttering in a dream, like dark lace on white cloth. You snuggle closer if I move away, drawn to the warmth. I grip you closer and my name is murmured and your small feet entwine about my calves. Your body melding with mine, even though I am on my side and you on your stomach, your gorgeous curves a comfortable fit. I lightly run my hand from your lovely shoulder following the contours of your body, the softness, like velvet so different to my fuzziness. You wriggle a little, the touch is not enough to wake you but enough that you know I am there. You sigh and again murmur my name, it is unfair to tease you at your most vulnerable but usually it is rewarding when you wake and hold me in your arms, your blue green eyes sparkling with lascivious wit. I gently kiss the curve of your cheek, taking in the graceful curve of your button nose that you are so proud of. I smooth down the wispy strands of hair escaped from your braid, breath in your familiar sweet, homey scent and revel in the joy of watching you sleep, the woman I love.

The sun slunk out from behind the trees, blinding the girl. Awkwardly, with the loud jangling of stirrup irons startling the nearby cat, she put up a hand to cover the sun. A smile flickered across her lips as a big black horse eyed her off. "General," she said with a nod. The horse turned back to the hay at his feet. Glancing up the hill she grinned. The bronze-colored horse standing in the shade of a tree half sheepishly looked back across the yards at her.

Hefting the saddle up, the girl took in a breath and yelled, "Come on, Rose!" Several horses lifted their heads but only the mare took any notice of the loud yell. Tentatively the mare took a step towards the stall, keeping her eyes fixed on her owner. Then the girl began to walk up the path, her boots crunching on the gravel, and the horse swung her neck and walked purposefully into the stall.

The horses each got a greeting as she walked past them into the tie-up area. She hung the saddle on one of the rails, the stirrups carefully crossed over it. Briefly, she struggled with her pocket to get out the keys to unlock the tack-shed where she grabbed a rope, and then unlocked the stall door.

Rose nickered loudly, the deep, throaty rumble sounded like a purr.

"Hey baby," her hands went out to the horse, who shoved her nose into them, and then pressed her forehead into the girl's chest. The girl lent forward to press her lips against Rose, breathing in the horse's smell. They stood together for a moment.

"Come on, girlie. I've got to clean the yard. You get to hang out in the arena." Gently she worked the rope around the horse's neck and tugged on it slightly. Willingly, the horse bent her head and followed her.

Gently Rose's head brushed against the girl's shoulder and arm as they walked together into the area. She let her hand slip from one end of the rope and it slid off the horse's neck. Rose inclined her head slightly, then took a step forward. Closing the gate, she crossed her arms and lent her chin on them, watching the horse.

Rose walked in slowly, her nose pushed to the ground. With each step she seemed as though she would collapse into a happy, relaxed heap on the ground, but she wouldn't until she found the perfect spot. The horse slipped to the ground near the corner of the arena. She dug her neck into the sand and stretched out, perfectly content as she rubbed her neck and shoulder along the ground. She swung her head to her owner, acknowledging her presence. Then, she stretched out on the ground and closed her eyes.

The horse slept. The girl watched. The sunlight played tricks on the chestnut hair of the horse, turning it from a dull red to a deep bronze and back again. The wind dashed across the arena and formed a little dust cloud. The birds chattered in the trees. The horse breathed in more deeply as time passed, trusting the girl to keep things safe.

Perhaps ten minutes passed before Rose heaved herself up from the ground. She stood, blinking wide-eyed at the world. They looked at each other and the horse flicked an ear, a kind of thanks for standing guard.

"No worries, girlie." The owner smiled at the horse and turned back up the hill towards the yard, back to her work. When she glanced over her shoulder, the horse was snuffling at the grass.

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