He doesn’t just fill the silence with words
He fills the silence with color and meaning.
And every time I’m around him,
life feels like more than daydreaming.
When I live my life there’s joy and light
but also hardship, ache, and muddle.
Yet when he’s here, holding my hand,
the world feels like less of a struggle.
If there were a day when Silence spoke,
I think he’d be the vessel it chose
The quiet shape between each phrase
where everything meaningful grows.
He remembers the things I tend to forget
Important little notes on the side.
And he holds these thoughts like precious jewels,
where I would lose them in the tide.
He listens without trying to fix.
He sees without trying to name.
And in his presence,
the simplest moment
never feels quite the same.
Uncommon Rachel 