i wish not to write of sadness, instead
of teacups and tutus
of blankets and brie
and of greetings in the airport

early mornings while the sun rises
the night fades into day
with a warm mug and appreciation
for life and light

but sadness persists.

as tall as the sky
as wide as the sea
as vast as the universe
as unknown as tomorrow.

but nothing comes to fruition before you plant the seed

trapped,
tethered,
tied.
an unspoken bond between us and fate,
reality and mind.
uncertainty like an eternal fog,
but forever is only so long.

i stand before you, a ball of clay
malleable and warm
waiting for hands and fire
to pinch and pull
to preserve and protect
each imperfection molded
my forever form created by yours