In a crowd full of sorrowing people, I spotted you.

The soundtrack to the setting.
The calming in the hesitant darkness.
The dimming of the brightly loud tears.

Simplistically, the smile in the midst of hundreds of frowned faces.

I spotted you.

The warmth to my cold and shivered skin.
The drought to the sadness that was festering.
The harmonizing of birds at dawn on a spring morning.

You were life at the funeral.
You looked like the first refreshing sip of coffee when waking.
You stood, so promptly; awaiting mourning and embracing the passing.
You, gave me hope, from fifty feet away.

I couldn’t wait to move closer and feel your aura of beauty.
To partake in the brilliance glowing off your body.
Because when wind caught, and my lungs consumed air that involved your existence, I couldn’t help my steps.

It took me 21 years, but I finally spotted you.

And although I sound foolish, I don’t plan on ever changing my line of sight.