I remember the first time you passed by—
mother proud to introduce us at last.
Saw you reflect me like a shard of glass,
awed at the ease with which you caught my eye.
You are my only comfort when I cry;
your love is something no one can surpass.
My need for your company stays steadfast,
long after I bid a grudging goodbye.
I’m busy now, but you still understand
that I’d rather spend entire days with you—
hours turn to seconds, rush by in a blink,
nothing to do and a coffee in hand,
you weaving tales just like you used to do,
drawing me into a world etched in ink.