Once I spoke the language of the flowers,
Once I understood each word the caterpillar said,
Once I smiled in secret at the gossip of the starlings,
And shared a conversation with the housefly
in my bed.
Once I heard and answered all the questions
of the crickets,
And joined the crying of each falling dying
flake of snow,
Once I spoke the language of the flowers. . . .
How did it go?
How did it go?
Shel Silverstein
You are the face
You are the profile of the shadow that haunts my dreams
You are the reflection of my sadness in the mirror
You are a ray of sunshine, a drop of rain
You are a beam of moonlight, a picturesque sky
You are the song my tears compose, and the comforting silence that dries them
You are the skip in my heartbeat, the catch in my breath
You are the twinkle in my eye and the smile that plays at my lips
You are my deepest kiss, my most tender embrace
You are my solitude and my company
You are the love that beats my heart and the reason for my repetition
You are my one
You are the face
And you are my fondest memory.
P.S. I have AWESOME friends.
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