A little boy, and a little girl.
The starting of every fairytale.
He took my hand, and told me not to fear.
I was weary, and not so sure.
As my hands began to travel,
I got lost in a melody.
Something oh-so-simple,
Directly out of my dreams.
You do know..
To be understood is to be completed.
To be comforted is to find a home.
To be accepted is more than I could ask of you.
If you don't feel that to be true, or if my words seem quite vauge too,
Rekindle the joy. That laughter. Those tears, my dear.
My heart's calling is to you, my darling.
I will find the strength to continue on... with you, in my arms.
Kicking my feet on car rides.
Blushing into his big brown eyes.
He caste his spell on me, if you turn to page 1 you will see.
Oh, this incredible guy. Just him and I.
As my pen hits the thin blanket beneath it,
As I feel soft, sweet wind against my cheeks,
My legs gently take flight, and soon enough,
I am surrounded by the endless dreams throughout the streets,
The warm smell of cement beneath my feet.
He grabs my hand and I feel it once again.
This is where it all began.
On warm summer nights, I look up at the stars.
I admire their every curve, I admire them from afar.
Wait! What's that I see??
A spark of shooting light! I must make a wish tonight.
I smile to myself as I close my eyes,
I make a wish to touch the sky.
I snap back to reality as I realize my dinner is in the oven,
As I hear the children's laughter from inside the house.
I walk inside, carefully choosing the seat on the opposite side.
Later that night I walk down the hall,
Making sure not to stumble and fall.
My daughter.. she's sleeping with one eye open,
Staring at a young boy.. she wishes she could show him.
All the things she will begin to feel. All of them so, so real.
I hear something moving on the front porch.
I open the door and quietly ask, "Couldn't sleep?"
The voice replies, "No!" with a gentle release.
I smile and shake my head. "Would you like some coffee?"
Soft strands of brown hair flow in the wind as I hear that melancholy phrase.
That is when my pen stops writing.
This is where the last chapter ends.
This is when the storybook is laid to rest.
He is right where he should be.
In my memory.
Was it truly a simple choice such as decaf!?
As I regret changing so much of myself,
I make peace with the returning sunny days.
I make peace with the puddles of rain.
I make peace with the cold winter nights and the sifting, flour-like snow.
That night I fall asleep on the couch,
Near a new friend whom I'm lucky to have known.
As I dream, returning to my childhood's own.
© March 2010
