Now it might be hard to understand
But just for a moment I ask that you try to comprehend
The idea, the marvel, the miracle
Of learning love’s true definition from a child less than 3 years young

Her name was Amelia Lyon, but she was called Amy Lou
And her hair was up like Whoville’s own Cindy Lou Who
Dr. Suess would’ve been proud
I’m sure he would’ve loved Amelia, as did every single person of every single crowd

We would bring her with us to Disneyland
The happiest place on earth for both woman and man
And little Amy loved every second of it
With a wide smile, never crying, not even a bit

Bearing the power of a simple smile, and a thousand suns
She would light the very streets she crossed

Reaching out and attacking strangers was far from seldom
With a beautiful kiss of innocence, sincerity, we watched as joy would blossom

Did she discriminate?
Did she decide who to incriminate?
No, you see, Amelia would never
If someone was hurt, and broken, she could make all things better

A beautiful soul
To match a beautiful girl
I learned, let me tell you
What true love is, something new
Something that is rarely practiced
But only talked about, and the fact is
I’ve never seen love quite like this!

It was sincere, and it was real and it was amazing
A special perspective, a new trail she was blazing
And now I know what true love is
Humble, supportive, and nonjudgemental
Kind, gorgeous and always gentle

Thank You, Amy Lou.
One day, I hope to be like you.

But now she's gone, at two and a half you were taken from us
So unique, Heaven, God, and the Angels were jealous
Do I feel robbed? Do I feel cheated?
Certainly not! Because I know who I shall see when I am greeted

There she will be, adorable and precious
That gleaming smile with a child’s eyes
At the opening of the Gates, it will be glorious
Because finally, that disguise, that shroud of earthliness
Will have been torn away, and we will forever be united again

My baby sister, my Amelia Lyon, my Amy Lou
I miss you so very dearly, my little Cindy Lou Who
With love, bittersweet tears, and a heart deeply aching
Your brother, Remington Charles King

Your hands were your first language
and all formalities and expectations aside
I want you to whisper into my skin
spell words into my flesh
just like I spelled my name over and over
inside my chest when I first learned
how to make letters out of my fingers
at summer camp in 5th grade
last night you reminded me of that week
more than I'll ever tell you
you are running through thick forrest
you are sunlight through the trees
you are blue skies
and you are also thunderstorms
I have seen both in your eyes
don't ever be afraid to rain
I wanted to tell you
Both storms were on a Wednesday night
the water never touched me either time
yet seemed to soak my soul
arms around my knees
whispered words
I think you were too upset to notice
that you reverted back to the voice that projects from your fingers
sometimes I forget English is your second language
you speak it so eloquently
hands
around your face
as if speaking in perfect verse
fluttering

"what are you saying"

fluttering

"you're so pretty"
"you're so pretty"
"you're so pretty"
you whispered

"pretty"
"pretty"
"pretty"
I repeated
using nothing
but my hands

As the famous man Gilderoy Lockhart once said
"Who am I"?
(Yes I know he's just a fictional character)

All this time,
I've been using the fault in our stars as a compass,
looking for Alaska and ending up in all the wrong paper towns

.. trying to write poems to impress people,
who don't even give a ****.

Well now, I've found a friend,
a few to say the least.
And Alaska may just as well be the 8th wonder in the world,
for her words and poetry never fail to amaze me.

Alas, I've found Alaska!
We're somewhat distant but under the same sky
Two different stories, two difference souls,
but hey, great minds, all think alike ;]

Large snowflakes float soundlessly
not a whisper of wind, just muffled footsteps
as she walks down the little town street
he catches sight of her as she looks up,
pearl flakes alighting on her dark lashes.
Her dark hair is highlighted with specks of white
giving her a magical look
he is already in love
before he walks over and says hello
and she smiles up at him.

We all want our fairy tale story
Falling in love with a Flynn Rider
or some other perfect man.

But how could I even hope to find
My prince (or hero)
when I hardly fit the description
of any of those princesses

He's not here for you anymore.
Sorry honey, but he never was.
You were just another kiss to him
someone to charm then forget.

Even though he will never escape your memory
You are just a fleeting moment to him
some fling that he never really cared about.

But remember.

He will always be restless
jumping from one broken heart to the next.
You will be so much better off
Because you value the lasting promises,
your perfect guy will come along

And you will be able to stay with him forever
while that guy from the past keeps unsteadily moving

You tell me no,
a life moving every four or so years
is the worst time.

But you don't get it.
I'm not planning this with the conscious knowledge
that it would uproot my children
like you were growing up

Because I don't want kids in the torn world
and moving is good for me.
I make too many mistakes to stay in a place too long

Even here I have worn my welcome