I remember when your name was just another name that rolled without thought off my tongue.

Now, I can’t look at your name without an abundance of sentiment attached to each letter.

Your name, which I played with so carelessly, so easily, has somehow become sacred to my lips.

A name I won’t throw around lightheartedly or repeat without deep thought.

And if ever I speak of you, I use the English language to describe who you were to me. You are nameless, because those letters grouped together in that familiar form….. carries too much meaning for my capricious heart.

Coco J. Ginger

Mots clés love passion writers names sentiment memories thoughts remembering love-story your-name

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WHAT am I, after all, but a child, pleas’d with the sound of my own name? repeating it over and over;
I stand apart to hear—it never tires me.
To you, your name also;
Did you think there was nothing but two or three pronunciations in the sound of your name?

Walt Whitman

Mots clés poetry child your-name sense-of-being

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