Small little goose bumps
Rise on my shoulder
as I remember the thought
And the feel of her love.
It was always the small things. Waking up each morning ahead of the sun, I await listening to the shifting of the covers and the slight absence of warmth from under them. I would hear the muffled sound of clothes hangers knocking together and the rustle of cloth as she chose the perfect outfit to wear. Soft notes of a calming song would reach me from underneath the sheets while she moved through our room as quiet as she could muster, not wanting to wake me.
It was always the small things. The whisper in my ear, greeting me just before the shower was started and warning me of the coming sound. The tones of falling water were peaceful though, lulling me further into the comfort of my bed as they made music while she moved. When it was finished, the last little notes of water would fall down peacefully, as if in early farewell to her.