Monday, December 7, 2015

maybe, a poem of wishing

you are slow to speak
careful, precise
your words are measured where mine are hasty

you are now and disdain the future
and the wait
I am frozen
the future is all I have

you are like a soft breeze in a meadow
gently lifting up the flowers as you pass

I am like a puppy
running headlong into the meadow to soak up all of it’s splendor
I don’t see the mistakes I make in my haste
the flowers I trample

I just want to be happy right now

you are slow
and patient
and warm

but maybe I’m wrong
maybe you are the dragon
and your warm summer breeze is fire and death
maybe the path you leave is scorched
and people quake when they know you approach

maybe I am just a bird
trying to fly higher
and closer to the sun

maybe the heat I feel will kill me

maybe I don’t care

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