He knelt beside me
drawing patterns in the sand.
Fragments of a story
and I could tell there was more,
so much more that I'll never understand.

You learn to be okay with that though,
to accept people for who they are.
Especially when they're better,
better than you could ever be.

It's not that you give up on trying;
I'm still looking at all the pieces,
hoping I can fit them together.
But I also understand that if I need to know,
he'll tell me.

And honestly,
he's the only one who knows,
knows when it's time to show me.
And I put faith in the fact
that when he does
it'll all make perfect sense.