During daytime, it is when the sunlight illuminates your face as you tell me with gusto the stories of your life as we walk along old familiar roads. I listen, get lost in them, trying to picture myself inside those stories and how you might have felt and saw those things in action and analyze them once again before my nightly slumber. I get to know you this way and it excites me for the next time you give me the pleasure to discover more of your true self, relishing the honesty and lightness of your being.
At night, it is when you read those thick books sitting by your desk that I steal a glimpse and you still those glimpses back, butterflies in my stomach in this sweet exchange. Those quaint quiet moments I devour secretly and I fall slowly for the solitary mood that you often get into, esp. when you read. It’s like the calm that comes after a storm, daylight after a long winter with the shy rays of the sun melting the cold revealing the beauty of the earth once again, making the land bear fruit once again.
And it’s either that desk lamp or the first rays of sun each morning that illuminates your eyes that gives me a glimpse, a stolen look into something good unfolding before us… like the first drop of dew when the world awakes every morning.