A love song to New York City

He traced her twice, still unable to sleep, clumsy fingers the only movement betraying the still of the room to the scant light which came in at the window. They spoke 'I love you' to that small part of a woman's back that men wait a life-time to be intimate with, he took in the bewildering fragrance of her hair, and waited. Silience was all that resonated- all that would still be his come morning- save the soft whisper of breathing, and the fast-moving night some stories below. Sleeping beauty could not be troubled with his world, he was not tomorrow.

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