I cling to the little moments. The little interactions.

Like the time you told me you liked the color of my shoes.

Like the time you told me if you could go anywhere, you'd go to the Colorado mountains.

Like the time you brushed your hand across my shoulder as you passed.

Am I reading into the little moments? Little scatters of time sprinkled on the canvas.  The shades of reds, blues, and yellows.

I barely know you. But I cling to the moments. Because darling, I would love nothing more to get acquainted with your heart.

The trees are our backdrop; the canvas is painted with deep greens, soft reds, and vibrant orange.

We walk under the draped blue September sky.

You are wearing the old black vans that you claim you've had since you were 11 years old. They have a small hole near the toe.

I am wearing the mint, coffee-stained high-top converse.

We walk side by side, close, but barely touching. Our fingers teasing one another with small touches.

The wind pushes us forward, deeper into the tree's belly.

We explore. Explore caves, rocks, waterfalls, trails, treetops.

You tell me that trees are like poetry to you. You grab a small yellow flower. You rip off a piece from the bottom, scrambled it a bit in your hands then slowly turn me away from you. As you brush my curled hair closer to you, you tuck the little burst of yellow in my hair.

"Perfect."

Those trees were poetry to you. & even when you are now thousands of miles away, they are your poem to me.

my body weighs more than a number.

my body is the weight of the sea -- the stars, moon, and galaxies dancing around the corners of my soul.

my body weighs more than a number.

my worth is the airplane rides, deep conversations, dancing, laughing, crying.

my body weighs more than a number.

my legs have taken me across worlds of sea, land, and mountains.
my arms have hugged. my lips have kissed. my hair has been washed in salt water and seaweed. my fingers have playing white and black keys, painted, created and traced the corners of his palms.

my body weighs more than a number.
my value weighs more than a number.
I am m o r e than a number.