He, with the round blue eyes, glassy windows into a kaleidoscope brain that spins faster than the planet on which he walks. On which he runs. Jumps, cartwheels across, headstands upon, bulldozes through.
He, who finds the earth beneath pressed palms even more beautiful upside down than right side up.
He, who roars awake with the sun and lives each moment with vigor that reverberates off every corner of my life. I feel his echo even when he sleeps, as the walls sigh in relief and shed his footprints, their cool concrete no match for his toes.
He, who fills every space I make for him.
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