Fingerprints.

The quiet thoughts they think at night.

The way their laugh sounds (my favorite laugh in the world sounds like a squeegee wiping a window).

Moments and memories. What makes them smile? What made them cry? No one can experience what they experienced exactly the way they experienced it.

How their eyes speak and tell of the past and what they hope for.

Where they feel safe. Is it home? In the arms of the person you treasure most? In a meadow? At the edge of a cliff where the sea breathes below?

The journey they take to reach a goal. Is it long? Is it short? Are there stops along the way?

Their way of expressing their interests and emotions.

The lens through which they study the world.

Their color palette. Is it bright and vibrant? Or are there earthy tones?

Their DNA.

Everything.

You are special, you are kind. You aren’t worthless, you aren’t plain. You. . .you are a thing of beauty that poetry can’t fully explain.