Hearts.

My one.

I'm sorry for all those words that weigh, at times, too much for my heart. That rid me of seeing things as wonderful as you standing right in front of me.

And this fragility. I swear with my soul that I'd love to get rid of. And for happiness to forever fall in my lap and my hands to share with you. 

As sadly as is, I confess my paradox; 

the thought of losing you is as frightening as the one of not enjoying the days mother earth has put in my hourglass. 

But leaves fallen have marked my path with you across this forest of yours to which I've been welcomed. Green like our eyes in spring, or orange as our hearts in autumn. There's nothing more that my heart wants as to be able to remember every second, smell or thought without, in the meantime, feel as if I was trying to control time itself.

There's not a life I ponder without your presence in it. My brain is unable to process that thought as of now. You're a whole forest, birds and warm love of a company.

Like warm tea in a house covered of snowdrops, or my racing heart as I prepare breakfast for you demanding myself it must be perfect. I'd love to give you the moon, mars, jupiter, saturn and everything beyond the stars. 

Yet, I know I must start with the most difficult offerings of all: myself.

I wish not to justify my actions when the words, actions or thoughts weigh as much as they do at times. But I sincerely wish that one day we can surely say that we live in a place where, either all of us, or none of us, are judged by the actions of our weakest moments. But the strength we show when we get up with scratched knees and sore legs after a heavy fall. 

The one and only whim that I want to give my lightweight heart, is that, either when it falls, or it gets back up;

it always finds itself near to you.

-your barn owl.