Fumbling the black out night
Were little light comes through the curtained window
Tripping over the discard of shoes
Pillows fallen off the bed and memories
Of when you laughed as I stumbled into the night bathroom clumsy hands looking for a switch
Waking for a three am bath for no reason
Other than to feel hot water on my skin
Sitting sideways to accomodate a second person in the too small bath
Maybe its not love I miss maybe its the happiness
The child like play I splashed bubbles against your chest
Leaning in for eskimo kisses and a teasing tickle to your side.
Its the little things the innocent wonder that I miss most