Passport Pages And Crocodile Smiles

This is for the salt on my skin,
for the countries that kissed me on both cheeks
and called me brave before I believed it.

For the islands where I vowed forever,
sapphire in my hair, salt in the vows,
laughter caught in the palms of a tropical breeze.
We wore blue and called it wedding,
but it felt like a secret whispered to the ocean—
Look at us. We made it here.

This is for the crocodiles—
the five-metre kind with ancient eyes
and jaws that make you feel
alive in the oldest part of your soul.
I stared into the face of something primal
and smiled back,
because fear has no place in a life this full.

This is for the rainforest,
older than God and twice as wise,
where I fell on moss-slicked stone
and he helped me up
with that laugh that never leaves.
We laughed until the trees laughed with us.
Until time gave up trying to pull us apart.

This is for Nudey Beach,
where we swam with fish brighter than the sky,
where my heartbeat matched the rhythm of coral breath.
For the Great Barrier Reef,
where the world still believes in colour.

This is for Bali, for Fiji,
for the sticky nights and sweet fruit mornings,
for the places where language was laughter
and love was fluent in every hand held tight.

For the storm we flew through
on the way home—
how I watched lightning paint the sky
and he calmed me
by talking about the colour green.

For cairns and cancelations,
for airbnb mishaps and roadside tacos,
for every missed turn that led to something better
than we ever planned.

This is for the passport pages,
creased and inked like a novel I wrote with my heart alone.
For the stamps that sing when I flip through,
every one a tiny roar: You were here. You lived this.

And this—
this is for the way I come alive
in places that ask nothing from me
but wonder.
This is for the girl I find in every timezone,
laughing barefoot on foreign soil,
smiling wide as a crocodile
with the love of her life beside her
and the whole, wild world ahead.