Man of Hours

 His face is becoming that of the man that my children will love and less of that which I fell in love with as a child myself.

His features aren't as soft as they used to be, a bit more rugged and sharp, cut by the edges of one's early 20s.

He's taller and broader, with a few days' shadow of stubble on his face that suggests that he's been too weathered to shave yet this week.

His eyes, though, are unchanging and youthful and as joyous as they have been this whole time.

Though time has molded the shapes of the boy I loved then into the man I love now, time has not changed the single quarter of brown in his eye that is so unique to him.

Cheers to the man of hours, to our love, and to our lives.

-Emma Lancaster