This feeling

They didn't go out looking for it,

It wasn't forced,

 

It found them,

And then it simply flowed.

It was a shock,

the kind of shock you feel jumping into a cold pool, different yet refreshing.

It was a mystery,

the kind of mystery you dealt with when you were eight and thought monsters lived under your bed. Eight year old you had enough knowledge to know the thought was crazy, but enough imagination to  keep them real.

It was new, like the flowers blooming in the spring, but old like the way we knew they always would.

It was theirs.

It was a masterpiece, of pieces.

Pieces that had been thrown aside and forgotten throughout their lives.

It was a collage, glued together by old dreams and new hopes.

It glistened by the way they looked at it.

They didn't need it showcased in a museum.

They showcased it in the only place they knew it would be safe, their hearts.

It was their work of art.

A work that's only possible way of creation could be made by a pair.

It was titled love.