Was it through your eyes that I noticed these tendrils sashaying down in front of me, interlocking like fingers reaching for each other. It’s comforting. Each finds strength in the other, as I find strength in you.
Seasons change. The beautiful autumn leaves eventually fall, don’t they? But you can see beauty in lost. You preserve them, tucking them in between pages of memories. Last year’s autumn leaf is still red.
You tell me, ‘You are attracted to water.’ ‘There…’ you point, ‘There is a stream there.’ ‘How do you know?’ ‘Just see how the trees are aligned.’
You left a world before me. And it isn’t that that I am thankful for.
You show me how the veins of this leaf crawls towards the tip. How fragile it is, but soon a flower will blossom, you say.