One Who Loved the Pilgrim Soul in (Her)

I saw an older couple in the audience of My Children! My Africa! tonight who were just sitting and chatting and waiting for the show to start. The reason I noticed them is because, as they were talking and he was gesticulating and she was smiling, she had one hand on the back of his head: she was softly, absentmindedly stroking his hair. They never looked my way and I never saw their faces. I will never know their names. They have no idea I even saw them. But watching her run his hair through her fingers broke my heart. 

I hope that, someday, when I am old and gray (and full of sleep), there is a man in my life who will take me to plays and let me run my fingers through his hair.