I read mental maps of the house we never built.
Waltzing to the tune that was never heard;
Up on my feet, through the night, that never was;
I relish meals you never cooked for me.
I end conversations we never had,
answering all the questions you were too cowardly to ask.
I draw pictures with words,
Of vast landscapes with trees bearing fruits, we will never eat.
I walk on roads we thought we would plant saplings along;
Leading up to the steps of your neighborhood library;
I stand at the window, quoting poems you'll never read.
Existing through the years of this life without you;
I have treasured the minutes you were there.
Waltzing to the tune that was never heard;
Up on my feet, through the night, that never was;
I relish meals you never cooked for me.
I end conversations we never had,
answering all the questions you were too cowardly to ask.
I draw pictures with words,
Of vast landscapes with trees bearing fruits, we will never eat.
I walk on roads we thought we would plant saplings along;
Leading up to the steps of your neighborhood library;
I stand at the window, quoting poems you'll never read.
Existing through the years of this life without you;
I have treasured the minutes you were there.
To what end,
ReplyDeleteif not for your own muse,
and, to repent?
Cheers,
Blasphemous Aesthete
Been so long.
DeleteWow! What imagination! What a lovely way to put this feeling that perhaps we all feel some point of time in our lives.. a true fantasy!
ReplyDeleteThanks a ton!
DeleteDidn't know anyone even read this page :)
I stumbled on your blog and so glad I did! Your writing brings back memories I thought I had long forgotten.
ReplyDeleteAntique maps Houston Thanks for taking the time to discuss this, I feel strongly about it and love learning more on this topic. If possible, as you gain expertise, would you mind updating your blog with extra information? It is extremely helpful for me.
ReplyDelete