She told me you worked at space camp now.
That must be fun, right?
I can see you sprinting through
In a bright blue flight suit
A kid attached to every ligament
You breathless, with an enormous grin.
You'd mention being overweight
And I would hit you playfully across the arm
Deny it like Peter denied Christ
Three times.
She told me you met a new girl.
Showed me a picture too.
She has dainty red curls.
I guess you meant it;
You do have a thing for red heads.
They say you met her at the Lego station
In Books A Million.
I can envision you stumbling upon her
Smashing a Death Star into an Ebon Hawk
And you would admirably gawk
At this childlike beauty.
Next thing you know
You would be prancing away
With a little piece of paper in your pocket
And a confident smirk on your face.
~
A sixteen year old girl can only conceive
Ideological fantasies
But a nineteen year old boy kept them company
Beneath the pillow of her dreams.
Though the first to stir from Make-Believe
Is cursed as the first one to leave.
Even as a child
I stared desperately at the darkened ceiling
Their snores and sighs my only lullabies.
And I would witness the misty dew
Clear the horizon at the gale's morning song.
I covered my tracks as I left
Yet I swear I heard your heart wrench
In your stupor.
~
The cursor blinks incessantly
On the blank page of a perfectionist
The only words satisfying
Are born not from my lips
But of an Irish mother-
Or perhaps a lover-
Long ago:
*May the road rise up to lead you.
May the wind be always at your back.
May the sun shine warm upon your face,
And the rains fall soft upon your fields.
And until we meet again,
May God keep you in the palm of His hand.*