Our love was in the moments,
the moments, like perfect bite sized morsels
in between the stretches of ravenous hunger.
The breathless moments when time stopped
but flashed past faster than our eyes blinked.
Our love was in the quiet times,
the perfect pauses, not pregnant but perfect
sitting silently in mutual understanding.
In the spontaneous hilarity of piggy back rides
and playful wrestling competitions.
It was in the mesmerizing metronome of
park swings slicing the night sky.
In the late night jogs where we spoke
with the crunch of our feet on the gravel.
In the simplicity of the everyday,
walking down the grocery store aisle,
an island apart in the sea of people.
The careless car rides thrumming with music
the soundtrack to our lives echoing.
The lonely sunsets that bled brilliant colors
into the night as our voices rose and fell
like waves baring the buried secrets.
It was in the rainy days,
the staccato sounds sweet against
the surrounding silence.
It was rocks skipping gaily across
the pond swimming with sunlight
and the laughter that would ripple forth.
It was the broken moments,
when tears would fall relentlessly
and we would drown in the melancholy.
It was in the contented companionship
of each others company.
Our love wasn’t in the grand gestures or gifts,
it was a quiet love and soft,
treasured in the quiet moments of contemplation
and crowned in the comfort of each other.
It was in those moments when we would,
solemnly exchange hearts, fragile and tender
and simply exist in the safety togetherness.
Words long surpassed by understanding
and struggle by being.
Our love was in the moments.