Before I wake

Everything seemed so much simpler when seen through her large, soft, round eyes--she was always looking and searching--studying his face, the noisy clock, the large, colorful bird on the wall, yes, but for her there was also always an answer, a definite conclusion that always satisfied her interrogations, that he with his hard, nut-like eyes never seemed to come close to cracking no matter how hard he tried or how many countless nights he stayed awake devotedly praying and watching while she soundly slept; he needed to watch her every breath, her every movement and quiver of eyelid, and he always felt the urgent need to keep her safe while she slept because he wanted to be there in case her simplicity scared her awake, but most of all needed to be there in case it didn't.