we've become a collection of bucket lists.
hypothetical "let's do this", "let's be here",
and "i'll go wherever you go."
but instead of marking minutes,
i'm marking miles. 3 states, 2 time zones,
and sometimes, an ocean apart.
but oh, my dearest, don't you know?
even when i'm here and you're there,
the sun still shines. the moon gets me home,
and every step i take is a step closer to you.
to my darling johnny, when your heart is weary,
when the days are brown and your eyes are tired,
rest easy. a parade is waiting for you. there is no
sadder, scarier, or more heartbreaking feeling than
loneliness. but dear john, you are never alone.
when days and days have passed and silence becomes
our preferred form of communication, your letters will come.
the bucket lists will turn into sticky-note reminders that someone
has you planted in her heart and allowed flowers to grow.
for all soldiers, including my own, abroad.
