He came to me

He came to me with his dreams and thoughts.

Dreams of what had passed of what may come to pass.

Thoughts life, light and love.

But mostly he came with hope.

Hope of the dream and thought of us.

And when he spoke of us they were not just words.

They were strong and everlasting

they were not breakable.

His words were more than words.

They were an art of their own.

Each syllable,

Each pause

Each letter painted a beauty unknown to my mind.

And though his words were in league of their own.

He came to me with more.

He came with purified affection

His touch was more than just a touch.

It was protective yet adoring, gentle yet eager

It was more loving than even his words could express.

And when he embraced me he did not expect  a  thing in return.

He simply did for the love of me and nothing else.

And if his touch itself was not enough he came to me with more.

He came to me with silence.

It was from him i learned to listen through silence.

For in that silence i found the deepest love.

I did not need his words or his touch.

For i found love deep in his eyes.

He came to me with the way to his heart and way to mine.