A Crimson Care Package

You shine like the sun and all the stars.

You carry your world on your shoulders, with your head held high you try to keep hidden the way it’s weighing you down.

Your love for God is so empowering

Your presence is that of soft spring winds passing through open windows and satin curtains.

Your laughter sounds like a soft melody plucked on a guitar floating off toward the stars from a group of smiles scattered around a campfire wrapped in blankets and love.

I worry for you and against my better judgements, do nothing.

I remember the first time I saw you, sitting on the bottom bunk of a dorm in the place where I grew up. And then we grew up more. We spent so many hours together, I remember drawing little animals on each other and taking endless photos. I remember the games we won and the many games we epically lost. And I am so thankful for all the little moments and inside jokes we shared (along with Nara). Thank you for all dish-co’s and all the quiet time chats and all the fun we had on outings, especially the reminders that we can’t have any idea where anything is in Mandurah because we don’t live there.

I also just want to say thanks for one more thing. I know that I would not have as many friends as I do now if it weren’t for you. You may not realise, but you became friends with our “Serps Squad” before I felt comfortable even speaking to them. But you made sure I was part of that group too, you made making friends easy for the first time in my life.

So I thought it was about time I told you what colours fill my head when you are around.

Your smile is a soft, rose pink that, when shown, is enough to lighten anyone’s heart. It encourages me to know that life isn’t all bad and there is always hope, even if it is sometimes hidden behind scowls and a fear that you’re upset with me.

You move like the colour blue. Your run incites excitement and energy in me and watching you dance is always enough to create pure joy. The sky would envy how blue you are when you’re moving.

Your insecurities are draped in golden yellow light. You spend all this time disguising them in something beautiful but you fail to realise that they were sparkling gold long before you even noticed them. This makes me want to spend hours dispelling every insecurity you have.

You my dear are all these colours and so much more. But behind it all, the colour I think of most as you is held in your love. It is the deepest cherry Red. It sends feelings of summer and apples and roses in a vase on the windowsill. It shines through in your love for everyone around you, sometimes despite better judgment. In the way you love God and the way you love to see others love God.

Don’t ever stop spreading this beautiful red love all around you.

A hand on the door handle and the other reaching for the perfume. the smell of Versace fills the room as she grasps her bag to leave. There are a dozen roses waiting for her at the door and her eyes smile as she notices them. She walks out into the evening air and the setting sun lights up her golden curls. This girl has longed for love for eternities and just now it shows how much. She is finally filled with self love, love that her God gave her to spread to all the corners of the earth. She smiles, for no one but herself this time.

I think of you daily and send love and prayers to you.

~ Zee xx

This Honey Coloured Hunny

A way with words that wows people.

You cause us frustration because of your pure perfection.

Your touch is wonderfully soft, like the feel of bedsheets that have been warmed by a lovers body.

Your voice touches everyone like warm summer rain and the smell of coffee by the ocean.

The words you write send shivers through entire bodies, like standing on Oxford Street in your warmest coat and listening to  the hustle and bustle of London life, like home.

You write like honey to the lips. It’s sweet and drips so perfectly. Sticks to me in ways you couldn’t imagine.

I watch you exist from afar, the view of your life is quite nice.

I don’t remember the first time I saw you, or the first time I was introduced to you, or the first time I spoke to you. I do remember watching you grow up on camp along with the rest of your crew; you all seemed to be the elites, unreachable for me. I remember when your hair was short and I remember watching the hilarious skits you and your friends managed to come up with, from the lion king reenactment to the raw pumpkin eating.

And I remember wishing someone like me could be friends with someone like you.

Thank you for granting me the pleasure of being your friend.

I knew you as Mowgli long before I knew you as Ben, so calling you Ben seems like more of a privilege to me than calling you Mowgs. So, Ben, here are your colours.

The music you listen to is pink. It inspired me to get back into writing and I listen to it when it’s raining. It reminds me that the rain and cold won’t last forever, and I’ll get through this winter just like I got through the last.

Your laugh is all shades of green. From the soft chuckles to the full blown howling when you find my sarcasm amusing. You’re the first person to compliment my sarcasm rather than be annoyed or insulted by it.

Your name is red. Deep, blood red. And hearing those three little letters reminds me of my little red boots from when I was nine years old. Your name reminds me of childhood and brings happiness.

But you, as a whole, are not pink, not green, and not red. I see you wearing your colour in your hair, at the ends and the roots and all in between. Yellow. Like the summer sun and spring daisies. The colour of friendship. I see it shine when you let your hair down and watch it intensify as you pull your hair back. It shows in every friendship I have seen you in and every other thing I see you do. You’re a golden child.

Thank you for your yellow friendship and the way it plays a part in shaping the way I treat everyone around me.

The ocean, a surf board, and tan fingers softly lay on the surface of the salt water. A school of tiny fish darting around beneath the surfer as he gazes out to the horizon. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath of the ocean air. He looks at home here. Content. He has left his troubles back with his towel on the sand. He has only love in his heart and his hands are fit to hold child royalty. He smiles lightly as he feels the morning sun on his cheeks; and thanks the man Himself for everything he has been blessed with.

I hope you know how much you are loved and appreciated.

~ Zee xx