when you are around.
Not quite a fire,
more like the gentle warmth
of the spring sun
melting into my skin.
pleasant and peaceful,
I close my lids and could believe
for a moment, there is
no enmity in the world.
fluttering hands and slow,
nearly stomping strides.
And sometimes, you sprint
in parking lots.
It's dire to get somewhere!
But you usually get about
six feet then stop.
So mighty that many times I can
Know your feelings
when words fail you.
But your words are not always easy to read.
When you're in a closet,
a scream only tells me where
you are, not how to get to you.
Small children, tucked in beds a bunk.
The clouds' tears would patter on the windows
and angrily bang pots and pans.
But the clouds did not wake me.
I woke to the feeling of small,
cold hands and feet, wriggling their
way under my blanket in the top bunk.
I'd meet the gaze of little tear filled
eyes, then watch them close waiting
for them to dream again.
You have my blood, my eyes, my promise to be present.
And without doubt, you lovingly robbed my heart.
Any stranger could see you smile,
and hear you chuckle, and you
would steal theirs too.
No, they would give it to you.
How could you not give your heart
to the source of its warmth.
- this was for my younger brother
Thanks so much for reading friend