106. On Love
On Love
Sometimes I would wonder about it.
When the oldest of women
and even the youngest of maids
would speak about a lover.
They would unravel tales
that would make me blush.
Stories about stolen kisses
and moonlight walks
which would make me think of
him again. The boy with kind
and tired eyes. The way he had
seen an ache in me and answered it
by showing me how to gain
the trust of the biggest of beasts.
The way he saw a loneliness in me
that spoke to him where I couldn’t.
I wondered if I would ever see him
again. I wondered why I wanted to.
But the more stories I heard,
the brighter and more lovely
his face and kindness became.
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