I carried you up the stairs trying not to wake you. But the steps were rebellious and had other ideas. With every movement forward they released a rheumatic sigh.
Your curly brown hair gently rubbed across my arms while your breath stayed in close rhythm with my own. Slow, and steady, and light.
I placed you down on your bed, the one you would soon outgrow.
A quick kiss before I left. More of a promise, really, than some remnant of the night. I needed you to know that I would be here when you wake.
Even now, I account for every one of those tomorrows.
Your room may be empty but my promises never were.
I will call you in the morning.
Copyright (TZampino) 2020
Image Credit: Pixabay