~ 2

H

E

A

R

T

d o

n S, g

\

u • e

/

o t

w

h

e

r,

k e e p i n g

p e r f e c t

time.

It’s tough to pinpoint, but I will give it a go.

It wasn’t when I first saw her. That was attraction.

It wasn’t because I couldn’t stop thinking about her. That was infatuation.

It wasn’t when I first held her hand. That was romance.

It wasn’t that every beautiful woman reminded me of her. That was adoration.

It’s not because it was hard to breath when she was near. That was passion.

It wasn’t when I hungered to taste her. That was lust.

It wasn’t even when we cuddled, and giggled together afterwards. No, that was intimacy.

Maybe it was when she arrived at breakfast in her house robe, wearing no make-up, her hair in a tangle, and she looked more beautiful to me than ever? Maybe that’s when I knew it was love.

You know t's love when the very thought of losing them breaks you to nothingness.

When just looking at them is enough to make you smile.

When you start dating them, and you are okay with them changing.

When they do you wrong, and you don't see anything wrong with them.

When you keep coming back to them, even after they shut you out.

Everybody makes a huge deal about trying to figure out whether it is love or not.

To be or not to be they say.

But when it is love you'll know it, it's not a feeling that creeps up on you gradually it hits you all at once like a hurricane.

You know it's love when they're the first thing you think of when you wake up and the last thing you think of before you go to bed.

You know it's love when they're the first person you go to when you have good news and they're the first person you go to when you want to cry.

You know it's love when you can't remember how you lived before you met them and you can't imagine how you would live without them.

Since we met

I secretly made a pledge

for as long as you live

I shall march ahead

holding your hand

As evidence that supports

Lately, You and I, sleep in a crooked place

Ethier way, I take your hand march ahead, thinking someday will make it straight

I made a pledge I won't break.

If another waits

for the ring to sink in the sea

they'll wait so long their heart will no longer beat

Even then, during a time of release

I'm sure I'll march ahead, only holding your hand.  

And the other place far from reach,

I'm positive our hands will meet

since the very first moment, we met at fifteen

it was clear that the only life I live to see

is by your side, I promise I'll never leave. 

We drove in your car

With automatic commands

You kept your hand on the gearbox

I have asked you

Why do you keep your hand on the gearbox when you don't need to change gears?

Your hand moved from the gearbox to my left knee

You petted me

I smiled

And I thought

Until now

I never got

Such a good answer

We rented a new-fangled car with a start button and surround-sound speakers, but the parents wouldn't approve of the music I listen to, so we're stuck with Toby's playlist. And Dad is too used to being a driver, and Mum unnecessarily says "Careful, careful!" a lot, and grips the dash over the AIRBAG engraving.

We slap all the sandflies that come within our reach, even though they're just as awestruck as us. I mean, they make tiny replica mountains on our skin. And at night they exclaim: "I know, I know!" right into the caverns of our ears.

And Toby and I walk one tree off the track because it makes us feel like wilderpeople. I mean, we only walk on the easy, under-2hrs-return trails, because both Mum and Dad have old knees. But when we sit in the diner at 3pm, with a 5hr car trip to our motel for the night, I finish my bean nachos before the bowl cools.

We start early to beat the tour busses, though there's always one just behind us (even though they all stop at every lookout). We feel more local than the tour groups, but I've been told my accent is dismal. And when we all return home, they will have thousands more photos to connect themselves to this land, and to prove they've seen all the sightseeing hits.

I've seen more kiwi plushies than I imagine real ones have ever existed, but only one fake fern. I want to start a garden in my bedroom when I get home, although I'm starting to feel that this wild life is more genuine than that one ever was.

Two women on bikes struggling up the glacier we're cruising down signal to us, and yell: "Is it worth it?" - and I don't even know how to answer.