" I Sometimes Wonder"

When I am alone, I think about a lot of things.
Most of the times, they are nothing. But sometimes....they are something.

I wonder where do all the bright stars go when the dawn cuts the night sky.
I looked at her and I found the answer.
The stars sparkle into those eyes. The eyes twinkle and bring marvel to the world.
To my world.

I wonder where all the wind go after it blows and pass me by.
I remember her and there it is, my question is answered.
The wind blew life to her whole being. It lifts her up from the ground and tell the difference between her and the rest.
I wonder where all the warmth come from in a biting cold night.
I felt her arms around me and there it was again.
She is warmth.
Her love through distance and time covered me with warmth and assurance against all of my worries.
I realized, I should stop wondering.
For I have with me the answer to all the "whys" the "hows" and the "whats"
In all my questions, she is the answer.
A single "pearl" in the vast sea of mind bugling inquiries.

"She Doesn't Seem What She Seems To Be"

A calm feather floating in the heart of a fierce hurricane.
She use to feel unsure of herself hidden behind confident strides.
A tender heart buried deep into the facade of bravery and confident nature.

A little ounce of pain and uncertainty with each sweet smile and hearty laugh.
She started to be whole after a part of her was broken and shattered into pieces.
She decided to stand while she was on her knees nursing the bruise and wounds.
With each silent tear is a million of smiles.
Her every "ouch" is a thousand of "i'm fine"

From the outside she is hard as rock, unbeatable, unbreakable.

Yet somehow she is not who we think she is.
Inside, she is a trembling child, a lady in love, fragile and vulnerable.

In her every "i don't care" lies the hopeful cry of "please tell me because i care."
In her every "okay" shouts the word "something is wrong"
Her hands are always full with things that keep her busy.
Yet those hands are the first to catch me when I fall down.

She may seem like an irony to a T. She may fit the description like a glove.

Somehow, she doesn't seem what she seems to be.
For she is happy when she say she is happy.
Each smile is a genuine smile.
Every laugh is from the heart.
The drop of every tears is born from the soul.
Still, she is who she is.
She is simple. She is complex.
She is pain. She is Happiness.
She is sorrow. She is gladness.
She is Life. She is Love.
She is beauty.
She is every wonderful thing that walks on this barren earth.