I believe in miracles,
I think that they are real.
No matter how ridiculous
You sometimes make me feel.
I didn't know it's possible
To speak without a word,
But your speech is too sensible
In every slightest nod.
You keep all words to silent though,
And it's so hard to find
What is behind this shining glow,
What's going on your mind.
And what am I to do, my dear?
Am I entirely wrong
Because I wish to have you near
And know where I belong?
He wondered what the real love is. "Why are you asking me?" - she replied, quite surprised by his question.
"There's something in your eyes that shows that you can answer it".
"Well, love makes you feel very happy. It gives you an inspiration, it opens a new world to you".
"But it can be replaced by some sort of passion, can't it?"
"No, I guess. Love is deeper and far more constant. If love is fire, then it's an eternal one".
"But it can bring you as much grief as happiness..."
"Well, I believe that you can't be happy if you don't learn how to suffer. They say that God wants us to meet different people so that when we meet the right person we can appreciate it."
"Wouldn't it be easier to live without love at all?"
"You know, life is known to be a painter who is drawing without an eraser. But if I had one... i wouldn't have ever used it. I don't think it's possible to live without emotions and feelings. It would be extremely boring".
He smiled and left. How on Earth could she explain to him that love isn't a thing to be studied but to be felt. All she could do is to devote all her poems to him... As well as all her thoughts...