The children would abandon all their games, and come running to Krishna just to see him laughing, dark curls spilling over his forehead, highlighting his twinkling lotus eyes. 

  All of the mother's anger at Krishna would fade away when they saw his beautiful, moon-like face smiling at them innocently, his cherry lips painted white with butter. 

  Yashoda would hug him in his sleep, his dark face glowing in the moonlight, his serene features at rest, and a soft and calming smile playing on his face. 

  The Gopis would blush as he winked at them, the colors of love painting their cheeks red, as if it was Holi, which was another time of love altogether.

   Balram laughed at his everyday antics, from the stealing of butter, to the way he made everyone's hearts as soft as butter, stealing those too, to the way he imitated the groundhogs that ran around, just as free as he was.

  The other children never felt lonely, always knowing their kind, mischievous, dark-skinned true friend called Krishna would be there everytime. 

  He would be loved infinitely, his jewelry shining, enhancing his beauty, anklets wrapped around lotus feet, the divine flute in hand,  as he stood there, softly smiling at the onlooker who would laugh suddenly and embrace the beautiful boy.

  But no matter who looked at Krishna,  whether you saw the mischievous butter thief, your innocent son, the cutest brother in the world, or the friend who never left, he would steal your heart, time and time again.