His words, often scattered, in dire need of comprehension, calling out your imagination to run wild, as searching in the vast ocean of thoughtfull-ness, pearls he wanted you to have, and only them.
They were often jumbled, as if on intention, to engage you, surrender yourself completely at his voice, Maybe he was search personified.
Or maybe the speed of his heart was faster than the mind could figure out, emotions too vivid to be bound by words,magic lingering his eyes, unruly for the Muggle world,realisations too divine to express in one voice, shared just enough, made you yearn for the next part,
When he could, he would say a few, then pause, watch me with widened eyes, to check if I understood, witnessing contentment on my part, his message was received by the intended heart, he would laugh and laugh,
It became our ritual,embedded in my heart, it was our thing. As the thirsty always drinks water, curious always looks for answers, I always did understand, so he never tried hard,
Poetry never tries too hard, one attentive understands her message at heart, other would never care enough, even when beauty bestowed bare, ignorance is bliss for the foolish heart.