Each night when I go to bed,
Time slows to a crawl.
I miss the books we often read,
But kisses most of all.

I cannot help but wonder then,
If you are asleep,
Or if you're up, and sharing too,
These longings that I keep.

So much has been taken.
Unfairness, over all.
But, all the things forsaken,
The kisses, most of all.