Him to her.

Where are you wife?

Where have you gone little one with the long hair?
Lie down and rest your head on the backs of my knees.

I will run my fingertips along those bumpy shinbones. The ones that tell the stories of a little beauty who cared nothing for dresses or rouge.

In the middle of the night you’ll come to me and tell me stories about a broken heart and feet torn and tattered by years of wandering. And I, I will sit and listen and rub the ache from the skin of your back.

I am the Husband of husbands.
I am the Groom of grooms.

I am the one who walks you down the isle, who calls you with a whisper, and the one waiting at the alter.

When your knees fail and the skin of your palms has all but shed I will be there.
I am there.
I am here.

That boy who left you standing in your front lawn with your self-esteem in the red, I love him too. But come to me. Leave him to his devices and to me.

Where are you darling sweetness?

Come near me and rest your eyes for a time.