There is a kind of love called love at first sight,
Sudden, clear-eyed, and certain;
And there is another, slower kind of love, perhaps more beautiful:
A secret longing, a subtle entanglement,
Sometimes near, sometimes distant, hazy and uncertain.
Fate is a mischievous child.
Before growing into a destiny steadfast and true,
It sometimes draws them closer,
And sometimes pushes them apart.
It holds back a laugh as it sets obstacles in their path,
Then slips away to the side.
Yet there are always signs, so very slight,
Though they have yet to read the meaning hidden in them:
One day, a falling leaf
Floated from his shoulder to hers.
Perhaps it happened just last Tuesday, perhaps three years ago.
- Xinkabosi
