My Folk

By Zainab Shahid

To the ones I love more than life itself,

I know for once that our hearts beat in synchrony,

For we strive through life's vexatious impediments with ease, together,

Through smiles of joy and pain, alike,

And together in bursts of fury and rage,

Embracing our flaws and eccentricity,

Or derangement, rather, in the most amusingly foible ways conceivable,

But then again, what are we if we do not laugh merrily together as we retire for the night?

And then give each other the silent treatment at the slightest of bickering in the morn?

Or inadvertently offend each other's sentiments in our playful banter oftentimes?

But yet again, as slumber engulfs our consciousness at the end of the day,

We return to being our endearing selves of a group, a tad bit twisted, a teensy more demented.

Yes, I do not have a love of my life, I have three.

Three angels that always wish and strive to make my life better.

I have loved you more than hearts have ever loved.

Oh, I shall love you till the end of time,

maybe even then when my world fades to oblivion and my heart beats to a standstill. 

Even then, aye.

By Zainab Shahid