Graceful are the fingers that glide along her skin. Delicately they move, almost a hover above the waves of her form. Her resting figure shall be disturbed not, such is the airy manner of his touch. Always cautious is he - her current state begets a sleeping cycle now increased; a requirement, yes, of additional rest. Much more than the norm, and more so than he; his own body in need of a more meagre level of somnolence. And yet, here he lay, his eyes fixed upon her face: her lowered eyelids veiling those vibrant irises, her features soft in dusk's mellow glow. Still those hands glide, over a curvature so protruded, the copper skin still silky as the sheeting below. An abdomen now rotund and so seemingly firm, harbouring within an essence so cherished, so loved. Through every flutter and every quiver, she is serenely unaware, whilst sensitive pads detect each tremble.
Each jolt the small form makes, stirring within safe housing, all felt by his wandering palm. Here, sheltered by a belly now billowing and round, yet forever smooth, and so inviting to a father's gentle touch. And touch he does, with all the love which his heart and his soul now brims. Through fingertips so acute does he relay his warmth, and with a smile his face now makes. As in this moment so dotingly cherished, there lies within him a feeling seemingly afresh. In all his many years, this may be the first with which joy fills him. An emotion seemingly eluding in years past, yet infinitely desired and oh so pure.
Shifting now are his thoughts, of the mother from him fate had cruelly taken. His mother so beloved, and thus woefully lost. No matter where she sails, aboard the ship which now carries her, ethereal and celestial, across a cosmos so vast. For within him, does her memory prevail. Always and forever more, within him she lives. And oh so proud would her spirit be.
END