I’ve known you for three years and
for the first time yesterday I saw you.

My mind is scrambling with the splintered
memories I have, putting them
together like puzzle pieces to make
a clear picture of you.

The first thing that creeps in is
his smile, and when he’s not smiling
his brow is crinkled in concentration.
His mother never taught him unhappiness.
My happiness rests in large hands
stuffed in back pockets and broad shoulders
shrugged into red plaid shirts.
My heart is constantly reminding me about
his; if everyone had the electric compassion
found in this boy wars would cease,
joy reflected in every eye.
Never have I known a purer soul,
and I never will.