i dreamt i saw you walking
up a hillside in the snow
casting shadows on the winter sky
as you stood there counting crows
one for sorrow, two for joy,
three for girls, and four for boys,
five for silver, six for gold, and
seven for a secret never to be told

there's a bird that nests inside you
sleeping underneath your skin
when you open up your wings to speak
i wish you'd let me in

from "a murder of one" ~ counting crows
No cologne here, either.

i totally agree with Kat.

Passion is in the way you know they are on the steps without looking at the clock or hearing them; it's in the way you run to hold them as they walk in the door or sometimes even watch and wait for every one else to greet them so you can savor the moment when your eyes meet and you somehow drift together . . .

Passion is when you want to read but he wants TV, so you sit next to him with your legs over his and try to read over the sound of the television while his hands absentmindedly stroke your legs and there is no place you'd rather be.

Passion is when you are 50 and still waking up 10 minutes before him so you can watch him and wait for his eyes to first open . . . but you never can wait to give him that first kiss.

Passion and love are in the conversations that no one else understands because there ae not enough words in the whole thing to complete a sentence.

Love is in the moments when you buy him socks and underwear, wash them, and hide them in his drawer because you know he needs some but you don't have a job and know he'd fuss if he caught you . . .

Passion and love are what it takes to make it through family holidays, children, conflicting schedules, job losses, diets, forgotten dates, bills, hobbies, illnesses, bad days, and Christmas shopping together and still hold hands when you walk together, no matter how short the walk is.

Passion and love are beautiful and glowing and surround you with happiness, hope, reassurance and confidence when your own is faltering.


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confessed on Wednesday, Oct. 31, 2001