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It was a quiet love, a tacit love. It came without prelude or preamble. We never said the word love—we didn’t have to.
It was in our laughter, in the sense of wonder we found in each other. And if we had doubts then, time has told us otherwise.
It was a gentle love, a tactile love. It was all hands and lips and hearts in tandem. There was motion in our bodies and emotion in our discourse. We were a symphony of melody and melancholy. When you find peace in another’s presence, there is no mistaking.
It was a kind love, a selfless love. I was a dreamer, and you were a traveler. We met at the crossroads. I saw love in yoursmile, and I recognized it forthe first time in my life. But you had a plane to catch, and I was already home.
By Lang Leav
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