They

They stand, gentle and strong

They have soft hands, like snow or summer grass

a happy laugh, like white clouds or the flutter of wings

Their eyes are wide, liquid like a doe.

Their spirit is unbroken, calm and cerulean like the rolling ocean

their soul is golden and white like the sun and sand

And they love me like we are blood kin.

No,

They stand, hard and jagged,

Their hands are calloused and scarred, like a wolfs’ muzzle,

Their laugh is quiet, hesitant and harsh, like a bark or like bark,

Their eyes are stone and amber, like a hawk.

Their spirit is fractured, angry and snapping, like shattered glass

Their soul is black and grey like the snapping of teeth

And they love me like we are blood kin.

 

No matter their look, spirit or soul as long as they love me like one of their own.

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