Thinking a Little More Slowly

If this person meets someone in the future,

I just hope they won't be hurt.

Someone who treasures people,

someone who thinks once more before every single word,

someone who accepts each other's standards and lives by them —

I hope they end up connected to a person like that.

And if that person turns out to be me,

I'll probably have to try very hard.

Because loving them won't be enough on its own.

I'd have to be someone who doesn't insist on my own way,

who learns how to wait at the other person's pace,

who gives trust through how I live rather than what I say,

and who, even after the feelings grow familiar, treats them as preciously as at the start.

Strangely, this time,

before “I hope they become mine,”

what comes first is “I hope this person is happy.”

And if I am part of that happiness,

it won't be a seat gained by luck

but one I must work at, long and steadily, to keep.

So — not in a hurry.

It's a morning that makes me think slowly, over and over.