Caminhando

WalkingSomemorningsare meant to be ours: fresh and cool wintery mornings. Brown leaves falling from the sky, heart shaped leaves floating around to embrace and comfort us. We walk under fragile spider webs that shine when faced with mild rays of sun. Their strength is so powerful; I even feel it with my eyes. We walk miles and miles in this green, brown, sometimes purplish natural walkway: Your hand holding mine. You talk to me. You smile with your face. You hold me with your kisses. We dance and our souls begin to expand and find each other. You see through. I hear noises around. The sky cries. We laugh and run. I wonder: have I ever felt this? Have you?
I pivot and my tiny body replies.
I celebrate our uniqueness.
Tell me now: how many steps have we walked until the day we’d meet at this corner of Earth?
There’s a door that opened invites me to love you. I think about my blue house. I see the scars. I think about all the times I’ve looked for you. I felt no air in my lungs, I was drowning. I was silence myself, a sad abandoned bandoneon. I hold your hand and I play with your fingers. I want to feel you’re still here. You’re still mine. You’re here.
We then, side by side go, we drift, we sail because love is this: a journey between two people who give and receive equally as we had agreed. Love is balance between you and me. It’s the effort we make to be independent and yet one.
We’re at the park. It starts drizzling. Your pale blue eyes look at me guessing or perhaps you are looking for answers. Would that be a quest, maybe the mystery of you?
Slowly we walk through the same path, but this time we’re going home.