And I love
All of these and more.
These feet
That do not touch the ground
When seated over a chair,
This voice
Too high pitched that pierces
My own ears,
That laugh
Loud and noisy,
Unfit for normal conversations.
But I love
All of these and more.
These lips
At times that speak words
That were better not spoken,
Those hands
Breaking things into pieces
That cannot be rejoined without a scar,
This blurry eyes
That stare into the skies
Hoping to count all of the stars someday.
Yet I love
All of these and more.
This heart
Completely flawed
That still keeps on beating.
And I love
All of these and more,
All of these and more.
The Wordcastle 