Relena [poetry]
Posted: Sun Mar 13, 2005 12:03 pm
A/N: I realized I posted this in the OT forum but not here. Nothing too special, I'm just in a sappy mood.
"RELENA"
~~~
She always has some grand scheme inside her head, always some story or song and if I'm lucky, catch the refrain under her breath as she's doing some rare household task and bustling around with a basket of paperwork balanced on her hands.
She hums when she thinks I can't hear.
She always has to be doing something for others or is planning to. Writing articles, joining groups, wanting to organize an event that will help others. She's not the only one, she shares the taskload with others and often has to be told when it's time to stop. But she likes that.
She cries when she's sad, when she thinks that there's nothing else to believe in and leaves the curtains open to a bleak-looking day. Hiding tissues in her pockets, she doesn't want to be seen with weary eyes, because nobody is allowed to see her when she's sad.
And she laughs when she's happy, when there's so much joy in her heart it feels it wants to burst, so her mouth quirks up and the sound of deep, pure sunshine escapes her lips and reaches her sparkling eyes, always those eyes.
She's many things that I do not know about her, things of her past that are too wonderful or too hurtful to talk about. They're there when she reaches for my hand, when she listens to what I say, when she puts two fingers to her lips, smiles, then presses them to mine and whispers,
"Sweetheart."
So many things that I wish to never take for granted.
She's the thing that -
The person who can just -
Be -
- how can you explain, how can I explain this -
The one who turns to me to say,
"Someday."
It will come.
Someday.
"RELENA"
~~~
She always has some grand scheme inside her head, always some story or song and if I'm lucky, catch the refrain under her breath as she's doing some rare household task and bustling around with a basket of paperwork balanced on her hands.
She hums when she thinks I can't hear.
She always has to be doing something for others or is planning to. Writing articles, joining groups, wanting to organize an event that will help others. She's not the only one, she shares the taskload with others and often has to be told when it's time to stop. But she likes that.
She cries when she's sad, when she thinks that there's nothing else to believe in and leaves the curtains open to a bleak-looking day. Hiding tissues in her pockets, she doesn't want to be seen with weary eyes, because nobody is allowed to see her when she's sad.
And she laughs when she's happy, when there's so much joy in her heart it feels it wants to burst, so her mouth quirks up and the sound of deep, pure sunshine escapes her lips and reaches her sparkling eyes, always those eyes.
She's many things that I do not know about her, things of her past that are too wonderful or too hurtful to talk about. They're there when she reaches for my hand, when she listens to what I say, when she puts two fingers to her lips, smiles, then presses them to mine and whispers,
"Sweetheart."
So many things that I wish to never take for granted.
She's the thing that -
The person who can just -
Be -
- how can you explain, how can I explain this -
The one who turns to me to say,
"Someday."
It will come.
Someday.
