Leaves . As a child, my mom would stare in awe. Stare in awe at YOU. At your majestic sublimity. However, all I saw was a simple, at times green 'blop' of paper.
A 'blob' of paper lazily napping-on trees.
Aesthetically, I see why many find you amusing. Your hue alluring. The way the sun shines on you - bemusing. Nontheless, you are just a leaf to me.
Regrettably , I am jealous (i.e. cue melodramatic music- Labrinth-Jealous). *Jealous of the way* ...
The way she looks at you this way. For to me , you are a leaf. To her, so much more.
For I seek, I seek in you a child's bewilderment transfixed in my mom's eyes.
A look I wish, she passed on to me.
See, I was never abused. Never hit. A mother's love: a love I have to this day. She cooks, she teaches, and yes she shops for me.
Sure, she finds fault. For yes, I am flawed- but confidently so .
Presumably, we share. We share some of the same DNA. Then, why am I so devoid of her ability? Her ability to laser-focus on YOU. She sees your personality: the changes in your colors and structures. Your pain. Your beauty. Your darknness.
Today, I am no longer a child. I am older- an adult. And she, still older than me. Yet, she still looks at you in awe.
Whereas, I am still trying to understand why you are just a leaf to me.