arriatta

They say the eyes are a window to one's soul. How lucky I was to discover these windows, so long unopened, shut tightly and lacking trust, faith, truth and love. What a pleasing adventure to pry those windows open only to see an even greater beauty past the sullied glass. Such overwhelming emotion that had been waiting to escape. Such love merely resting until everything fell into place. Such meek kindness and sweet, tentative affection. Who am I to be the recipient of such wonders? The content companion of one so lovely, as inwardly as out. Oh, if only the glass were a mirror, reflecting back in a bid for triumphant realization;