Her Name Means Grace...

To The Girl Who Filters The Nutrient Source Of Those She Cares For,

In the same manner that I do with Light…

You set my world on fire, with ashes like clay, that could be molded and thrown to the wind without caution.

To The Girl Who’s Songs of Soft Whispers in the night, and even gentler touch…

You calmed the waves that often troubles the bridges of my mind. 

& I wish I could’ve done the same to soothe the twitches of your own strife.

To The Girl Whose Clam Chowders are adorned with Hot Sauce & Corn,

You flooded the taste buds to the point they relished an appetite of destruction.

And by turn of events, I had not realized that I had overwatered the very roots 

that would stunt your growth, and the yellowing of your leaves had been mistaken for gold.

I would’ve easily stood in the face of all that the spirits of your past could surface to air and not move a limb,

for the fear of losing you, was more immense than the fear of what has already been lost.

But to no avail, the true weight of what it means to love, is to know that it is ultimately a losing battle either way,

one in which you’re willing to surrender your all to. 

And with that, comes the halting of seasons, the withering of leaves, and the solidifying of soil.

But soon enough, conditions will prevail, and you shall bloom once again.

And I hope, that your next bloom is one for the ages, 

one that effortlessly decorates the pages of the favored wanderer who gets to catch 

the details of your grace in all its splendor.