Its funny

That even your name

Is written on my heart

And that's what you mean,

Little do you know

That

My heart

Becomes consumed with butterflies

And dragonflies

And fruit flies

And a monsoon of storms

That take control

Of my eternity

And yet

You don’t seem to know

Or do you?

Can’t you read my eyes

Of which every secret

Is hidden

Can’t you tell from these eyes

That Heart

Is written in them

You remind me of the moon

And the stars in the sky

For your illumination

Is intoxicating

Falling drunk for simply the gaze

That taste of memories

Made in just the light

Of the brazen moon

My heart is brimmed with emotion

For in golden writing

On the warmesth part

Is engraved your name

The name of a stranger

Whoes thread is woven into my seams

By the delicate way our eyes meet

Like the meet of the bow and arrow

Both gentle understanding

conspires between them

But yet

I have not met my bow

But he has seen the arrow

What could I be more in love with besides the simple eyes that gaze upon me, making me feel like a candle melting underneath the gentle flame? As if my heart felt like a cloud before the release of the storm, the rhythmic pander of the rain reminding me of each time you stole my heart- releasing the storm that beat fast in my heart. Even the simple thought of your name creates a patter in my stomach as if children were playing with the strings that connect me together, making my cheeks fill with different hues of pink. What could describe such a sensation besides the words I shall confess. The only truth to such a pain.

I love you.

Happiness. A child's greatest friend, the laughter of the delicate life filled with naive joy. What does a child know about loss, the cold empty of sadness? The tears that form from the simple loss of a toy, or the escaped cat that has left the room. Hands are held together as they walk through life together, but what happens when the hand that is held is gone? Cannot you see through the eyes of a child and understand what they understand, for they perceive more than you think.

My mother was in tears, she sat on the prayer rug and wept. The worst sound on earth is that of your mother's cry, undesired to those young and unknowing ears. Her heart was filled with sadness but the reason why was unknown to me at the time, but the naive understanding of pain and loss was known through the simple tears in my mother's eye. She sat and my young heart broke watching my mother. My feet lead their way to her. I sat on her lap and wrapped my fingers around her neck saying

"It's okay mama, don't cry, don't cry." I pat her back to give her comfort and she embraced me, holding me tighter than before taking the comfort that her child provided her.

"Thank you, my love," she whispered and held me in her arms until she could let me go. What I did not understand was that the comfort I had provided her was the comfort she desperately desired to provide to her own mother. Her mother whom I had seen her call every day, and always hear the promise to come visit her soon, though many miles separated them. That day I remember no phone rang and no promise made, I never understood loss till the quiet house was no longer filled with the 5'clock phone call.