Stained hands, eager to consume

a poem about the sweetness of sharing memories with your beloved. Getting to know a version of them that you have never met. The ease, the trust, the excitement of it all.

Long walks through the forest show me places i have never seen before, learning new things about you as we walk backwards on the path of life.

You pull some branches aside and show me another one of your favorite spots, I did not have to cut down trees to find it, you brought me here.

Spring sun shone light on another sweet memory.

Here we find fresh fruit that we carelessly eat with our hands, they get messy and we let them stain.

Love should not be brushed off so easily.