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Love, not about the sheen that you witness when you close your eyes while pressing your hands on them.
Nor like the rustling of leaves of oak tree and coruscating flashes of light.
But getting rid of the waxy cerumen in your ears.
Eliminating the stains of chocolate ice cream around your lips.
Clipping your fingernails and toenails like a pro.
Scratching your head to loosen the flakes of dandruff.
Wiping sweat off your face while taking a nap leaving a kiss on your forehead
And lying face upwards.
All these things are unfathomable yet like ethereal.
Pouring extremely delicate light, maybe not of this world but in our own universe.
Admiration was in me for you of being a poet endowed once in younger years but was not nurtured until adulthood. If only I can turned back the time and be one like you.