In a Language Not of Words

Every day I awaken To meet a strange and curious girl. I cannot possibly recognise her assessment, So I am cautious... Initially, she appears timid, With a reticent stance, Yet sports an absolute Confidence. She doesn't let me in at first, Giving short And vacant Responses. With an expressionless countenance. I examine her familiar eyes, Avid to explore the depths of her eloquent mind. Speaking through me, Her righteous manner strikes familiarity. And in a language not of words, Our thoughts flow parallel. I lay in slumber, Comfortably embraced. She holds me in reverence, Protective of my entity. She doesn't sleep. She is my unconsciousness. ~Written in 2003 (Sunday, 21st, December) when I was fifteen.