young heart

i remember when love was like the morning dew

it was young, vibrant, careless,

when i thought it was the most beautiful thing, next to heaven,

perhaps, the closest feeling to being in serendipity.

it was abundant, it was relieving

and every moment of it, i thought was a rose garden 

that even old rose would look so lovely for a butterfly.

when music was a harp that plays every minute, 

and letters for a story, song, or a poem are easy to grab,

where dancing was something i could do,

even with my stubborn feet,

i remember how it was when love knocked in, 

i feel how it was when it knocked me down.