Finding Me

 
You'd find me in a crowd of many, maybe countless,
reaching out, picking me, my hand you'd be taking,
those eye's
emerald,
looking,
speaking, many things to be true,
though it's connection be as silent as whispered breeze
disguised by it's randomness to any other soul traveler as
they witness the me and you at its perceived conception,
though its beginnings go back beyond there thinking, their
imagination maybe not so understanding.
 
But I'd not get lost, fall, or lose my line of sight in these
visions of you and I, my reasoning beyond a satisfactory
conclusion, though the perplexity of the moment to give
worrisome thought on many a mind without the love
connection as we found.