Your navy leather skin was among the first that touched mine.
I traced the gold designs with my fingers, round and round,
Round and round, intricately until the teacher banged her hand on my desk because I had stopped repeating after her.
The mind does wander when one pronounces your words over and over.
It becomes like breathing.
Such a beautiful presence in my life, you were. And you are.
The letters that make up your timeless message were forever enchanting my ears when I heard, my eyes when I read.
I sat in silence, sometimes rhythmically swayed—by accident—and sometimes rocked, back and forth as I recited your stories
Like incantations on my lips.
It was fun to read; like a song you sounded—but no, a song you weren’t.
Passages like poetry that no human could ever write, the twists of your words forever imprinted
In the deepest chasms of my heart.
Sometimes my eyes would close and I’d remember you. In my half-sleep, I’d murmur
Your secrets so that you’d become a part of my dreams.
I held on to you; put your miniature cousin in my school bag,
Your gigantic one on my bookshelf.
You kept climbing the bookshelf,
Higher than I ever intended.
Now you’re a little out of reach. How you managed to achieve that great distance is a mystery.
The flipping of your pages makes a distinct sound—I want to be able to flip them slowly, without
Haste in knowing what you will have to say next.
I want to be able to know without looking at print what messages you want to deliver to me; from my heart
To my mind.
From my mind to my heart.
I long to preserve you forever in the core of my being—not just one part, not two, not three, but all of you.