fine lines

he stood there
with no shirt on
the remainder of his work day
was only a plain pair of black pants
and a black belt.
he smelled of coffee
and sunshine.
this man
with his smooth lines
his freckles revealing themselves 
more and more
as the sun draws them out.
he is mine,
the one with the freshly cut curls
only hours new
and the sandy beard with a few sparse patches.
he is a smile to my mind
a rest easy in my heart.
I came home late this evening 
and he was bent over
picking clothes up slowly off the floor
restoring order
in his quiet assured way.
I thanked him quietly
because I recognize the servitude 
after a long day of working with his hands
behind the machines
interacting patiently and efficiently
with the day's demands,
and to come home and still give of himself,
I am appreciative.
it is dark now, the only light
the soft glow 
of me behind the screen
and the rhythm of his deep breaths
groove next to me.
all is quiet 
and my heart is full.