I'm young and in love
with disjointed sentences
mosaic symbols transforming
deliberations into expository
railroad tracks, crossing paths (with)
black jazz cats in the 20's to write the music a little differently for each note,
to ride a little Titanic eye contact
until Earhart makes it home.
Compress these highs and lows,
into melodic notes, dancing up (and down)
the Christmas tree, ornaments from
the time you were only three.
Days before we met, days beyond our starry-eyed goodbye,
Love is a gentle thing,
and you were such the words I'd pray to whisper in the night, on beaches made of all your favorite colors.
I want to be the way you see me,
I hope you never feel alone.
And what a treasure it was,
to speak with the princess,
instead of staring at the castle.
Soft cheeks instead of hard stone,
(cold glass, icy masks, distant hopes.)
But instead of distant,
You were close.
