Missing This Childhood Love
This is what I loved.
This is what I love, still,
though the years pass
almost like clouds that pass,
changing shape across the sky.
But I know it in my heart
as it aches for you at night
when a dream wanders close
and brings memories
I never want to forget.
This is what I love.
I love
your scars
because they tell stories my ears and eyes know,
the assurance of your warm skin,
the smell of your extra shirt
pressed against my face.
Your eyes, so brilliant,
glimmering with humor for the world.
Your honesty,
your loyalty,
your bravery.
Your passion for challenge
in everything you do.
Your ability to listen
and to say the things others can't.
How carefree you can seem
yet how serious you can be.
Your maturity,
your thoughtfulness,
your intuitive way of things.
The fun times you carry
with you everywhere.
Your ability to say everything
without saying anything at all.
How closely tied you live with nature;
the Earth in your heritage,
the Ocean in your eyes.
Your smile as an extension of a knowledge
always for something that deserves it.
The way you hum a song I know
and a note that I can finish.
Your couragous, unashamed words,
that speak my thoughts aloud.
Your need to live life to its fullest
and never pass over the smaller things.
Your willingness for hard work where it matters
and desire for fun on tight daily schedules.
Your acceptance of people
no matter what they look like;
the way children flock to you,
and even how girls do too;
how everyone wants to know you,
how even adults love to talk as equals
whenever you are near.
Your desire to learn the practical things
and to question everything else.
Your respect for ideas that contradict
even your own beliefs.
The times you spend improving
yourself for everything
you think you need to know.
How your compassion is the kind
that gives real strength
and a fascinating amnesia
for any kind of sadness,
madness,
pain.
Your gentle love for animals,
that only appears when in need,
because of your secret insecurity
that you didn't live up to expectations.
But I tell you now;
you lived up for more than anyone else
that I have ever, forever known.
This isn't what I love!
It's you that I love.
And none of these words can encompass
that incredible meaning;
it brings old tears to my eyes anew.
And I still don't know if I will ever love another
quite the way I love you.D
This is what I love, still,
though the years pass
almost like clouds that pass,
changing shape across the sky.
But I know it in my heart
as it aches for you at night
when a dream wanders close
and brings memories
I never want to forget.
This is what I love.
I love
your scars
because they tell stories my ears and eyes know,
the assurance of your warm skin,
the smell of your extra shirt
pressed against my face.
Your eyes, so brilliant,
glimmering with humor for the world.
Your honesty,
your loyalty,
your bravery.
Your passion for challenge
in everything you do.
Your ability to listen
and to say the things others can't.
How carefree you can seem
yet how serious you can be.
Your maturity,
your thoughtfulness,
your intuitive way of things.
The fun times you carry
with you everywhere.
Your ability to say everything
without saying anything at all.
How closely tied you live with nature;
the Earth in your heritage,
the Ocean in your eyes.
Your smile as an extension of a knowledge
always for something that deserves it.
The way you hum a song I know
and a note that I can finish.
Your couragous, unashamed words,
that speak my thoughts aloud.
Your need to live life to its fullest
and never pass over the smaller things.
Your willingness for hard work where it matters
and desire for fun on tight daily schedules.
Your acceptance of people
no matter what they look like;
the way children flock to you,
and even how girls do too;
how everyone wants to know you,
how even adults love to talk as equals
whenever you are near.
Your desire to learn the practical things
and to question everything else.
Your respect for ideas that contradict
even your own beliefs.
The times you spend improving
yourself for everything
you think you need to know.
How your compassion is the kind
that gives real strength
and a fascinating amnesia
for any kind of sadness,
madness,
pain.
Your gentle love for animals,
that only appears when in need,
because of your secret insecurity
that you didn't live up to expectations.
But I tell you now;
you lived up for more than anyone else
that I have ever, forever known.
This isn't what I love!
It's you that I love.
And none of these words can encompass
that incredible meaning;
it brings old tears to my eyes anew.
And I still don't know if I will ever love another
quite the way I love you.D