Reasons

For what must be the hundredth time,

I see you standing there,

framed in gold by the sunlight that kisses your shoulders.

The wind that gives life to your hair and blush to your cheeks

does little to sway you.

From here I can look into your eyes

which dwarf the ocean’s depth,

and see the dark expanse of fathomless wood that you wander through.

I can call your name,

let my cry permeate the thick branches and hollow bark,

and you can hear my voice echo through those heavy boughs,

and let it drift softly away with the dead leaves.

Or,

you can turn your head to me,

allow me to grip your arms and guide you,

not out,

but to a sunnier patch,

where the brightest star can grant me the privilege of glimpsing your features once more,

so that I can press my lips to the delicate skin of your scalp and promise you:

Open your heart to it,

and the world will give you endless reasons,

in every stranger’s smile,

in every thoughtful question,

in every cheerful shout of your name,

in every bump of a wet nose against your knee,

to carry on.