When I Looked Through Better Eyes Than Mine.

What do I think? I think there are bigger, more beautiful horizons ahead, love. You will paint them yourself, in bold, brilliant strokes, with the colors that even now drip from your fingertips, honeycomb golds and deep-water blues--a hand-printed portrait of your heart's spillover.

I hope I'm close enough to see the mess you'll make. Blossoms of beauty erupting on everything you touch, spreading from your smile that reaches up like a flower to sunlight (stretching higher still). And everywhere you walk, green shoots springing up from once-dirt, cradled in the shadow of your footfalls. I'll smile as they, too, curl their newborn heads toward the sun.

But time is twin to change, and distance more than darkness takes its toll on the eyes. So if I cannot watch as you wade knee-deep in beauty (drifting deeper still), at least I know I'll hear you. Because the sound of glory reverberates for miles, sprouts wings and leaps oceans to enter the ears of the listening. And I'll be listening for you, love. I believe I'll recognize your song.

It will be much different than the faltering, hesitant melody you started with. The colors a blend of something new. But I'll recognize the beauty, love. And I'll know it belongs to you.