We met in the hush of an undone song,

fingers reaching, but the notes?

Off-key.

Too wild, too worn, too free.

Caught in a rhythm that wasn’t meant to be.

See, love ain’t just about fire,

it’s about timing.

And back then, we were burning too fast,

flames licking at the edges of something real,

but the world wasn’t ready.

We weren’t ready.

So time pulled us

like tides to the shore,

separate waves, crashing,

aching,

wanting more.

We loved in echoes,

in almosts,

in might-have-beens

but almost ain’t the same as having.

And we learned that the hard way.

But seasons shift.

And so did we.

Softened by fate, shaped by the wait,

by the spaces between who we were

and who we had to become.

And now

now love don’t rush.

It don’t stutter, don’t trip, don’t chase.

It moves like a steady tune,

a melody made for two.

Not too late.

Not too soon.

Just perfectly

perfectly

right on time.

Xoxo, Drea