It’s there upon the birth of your child
That unspeakable desire to make the world perfect for them because the world has been cruel to you.
It’s the first time you heard My Favorite Things and experienced beauty in the world.
Trying to return to that innocence is a daily battle.
It’s when you submit to that sweet sleep from the exhaustion of life.
Abandoning any care for how anyone would see you as you dreamed of alien worlds.
Counting on one hand those that inspire this behavior in me.
I continually come back with spare change.
It’s in the deep breathing that borders on snoring.
The sound of their jaws and lips take in the food you provided.
Some say there are many types of love, but only a few interest me.
It’s that first time in Paris, when you walk out of your hotel room.
Walking down the street, passing the market and entering the cemetery to finally commune with your heroes.