The sun was all light and no warmth the day I first saw you.
I sought shelter in the public library; alone – yes – achingly so. Do you
remember how my fingers brushed against you as I walked past? It was no
accident.
After that, for the next two weeks, we were inseparable. You
cast a spell upon me that made my eyes open a little wider. New life started to
blossom in the desert of my heart.
You were my delight.
But I knew from the first that you belonged to another, that
I could not in could conscience keep you as my own.
The separation was bitter, yet I took solace in the changes
you had wrought in me. Because of you, I no longer felt alone in this world.
It was because of this, because of my fond memories of you that, years later, I tried so hard to find you. I scoured the Internet searching for you. But
my memories did not make suitable search terms. I could not search for Love: of course not.
I looked for you until, one day, after years of searching, I
made contact. We were to meet, and I knew that this time you would be mine.
I was nervous. I wondered if you had changed since last I
saw you. And at first, it seemed that you had. There were times I worried that I
barely knew you. But slowly the memories flooded back, and it soon felt as if the
intervening years were but moments.
The eyes-wide-open feeling you engendered within me when I was young has returned. I am so glad that I have found you again; so glad that I can hold you again; so glad to be reading you again.
