the child I love

We sat on brick baricades and shared a coke… and a smile. You stood up and out, aflame, like the curls than flowed down your hooded jacket, auburn against a fading blackness.

Tender pooled in you, called to me, “There is more here, this is no mere puddle.”

Gently rounded words poured out smooth, from lips that didn’t run on or down like a faulty vessel.  And I loved you, right then. right there.

Belief was birthed that moment, those minutes we walked trails and tried to find our balance and strength and solidarity.

My heart grew wider to hold you and my lips betrayed my mind and prayed on for you, long after I could carry thought to do so.

Some people you just come upon, and love. God wills and woos that love grow for a life highlighted, like your hair in the sun that partly sunny day. We, you and me, are about to meet, more than our eyes, or our minds, who surely met long ago and are melded in what we both love. We, you and me, are about to be… comrades, co-conspirators, quick friends.



Filed under observation

3 responses to “the child I love

  1. sara

    pretty writing.

  2. miranda

    ill keep this forever.
    its absolutely beautiful, and it means so much to me.

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