Before the earthworm can taste the rain,
I have thought of you a thousand times.
Before the butterfly leaves her cocoon,
my heart has ached for you.
When you were still wide-eyed,
and my inner child was an orphan,
our feet, without our knowledge,
were already set in motion.
Your fingers were not yet nimble,
still being knit together,
and my eyes could not squint into the light,
but this light was already guiding our steps.
Though we sit now in the last rays of the sun,
your delicate hand woven into mine,
I think about those days,
before I knew you,
when I knew you.
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Another great post. I enjoyed reading your blog today.
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