She loves the lines on his face, they tell her the story of his laughter. All the years etched in his bones, when he lived through his happily ever after,
Each tiny freckle on his skin, tells story of once upon a time, of days he smiled till his cheeks hurt, without a reason or rhyme
She loves the way his voice sounds, the way his heart pounds to a mention, a sketch, a sliver or a shadow from..long lost..but known grounds,
An instant of silence..then he moves on, with a wink and a chuckle the darkness is gone.
She loves the color of his eyes..they are like sunsets of their own, Warm and sad but glowing from the inside like a firestorm.
They shine and sparkle to his stories, like flames of a fire that is burning him, but also keeping him warm.