Patiently she waits, waits for the sound of his key in the door, his foot steps coming up the stairs to her. Knowing so well what she will see, will hear when he walks through the door, looks at her, smiles, then casually throws his tie on the back of the gold, velvet chair. 

Behind Closed Door's, that's where they share who they truly are, not the face they show the world, but who they are and what they need.

Behind Closed Door's. They share the private thoughts, touching, the warmth of her hand in his, his gentle understanding kiss on her lips. the knowing smiles when they share past hurts, disappointments, then glory in the miracle that brought them together. 

So long had she sat at a table alone, as had he. So long had she slept in an empty cold bed, as had he. He had eat in restaurants alone, taken drives through the country side, strolled on the beach, always alone, as had she. But not now. Not alone. 

Now she cooks a meal, sets the table for two. When she turns over and snuggles against his warm soft body, feels the warmth of his skin, the slow beating of his heart as she drapes her arm across his chest, she marvels and thanks God she is no longer alone

They stroll on the beach, holding hands as the moonlight glistens off the waves. She sits beside him as he drives slowly down a country lane and they laugh together as the fox squirrels play and chatter in huge oak tree's. He wakes in the night, raises his head and smiles as he watches her sleep, gently touching her mussed dark hair. And thanks God he is no longer alone. 

Behind Closed Doors, the world locked outside, they share thoughts, dreams, fantasy's , then slowly rise, reach out their hands for each other, and as a gentle soft kiss becomes one of passion, they drift slowly toward the huge four poster bed, 
Behind Closed Doors.