Children of Zeus are warm summer afternoons where the humidity matches the temperature.
they're drinking alone at a bar in their best shoes with a smile glued tight to their tired cheeks.
they're bright eyes and broken hearts, always moving, moving, moving steadily on.
they're tracing patterns into the palms of the people they care about.
they're chipped nail polish and sloppy kisses and poorly timed confessions of love.
they're climbing to the top of oak trees and never being afraid to fall.
they're an unexpected bolt of lightning.
they're catching an eagle's feather as it drifts down from the sky.
Love from a child of Zeus is fun, and fierce, and far too fleeting.