You’re a slideshow.
A breathing VHS
That flickers and flits through still images
Until I see you clearly.
The time you said you were home
Red hues painted on your face
Sitting cross-legged on my rug.
The movie skips back,
Standing in a field, dowsed in moonlight
Mist leaving a dewy cold on my neck
And further back it rewinds
To that time
When I handed you a poem
Nestled in our very own sandcastle.
Rapidly skipping with quick glimpses
Of little glances
In a car at 1am.
Simple touches after nightmares
On a couch at 3am
And a handshake that turned into…
Hearts beating so loud it startles the trees,
And visions of making love
And you kissing me.
Please, press play.
I tell myself to stop rewinding
But it fast forwards instead
A garden with a toddler playing
A kindhearted mother and a hospital bed
And nose nuzzles with a little baby girl.
I hear her name.
I see you.
We will have love like no other,
We will play in pillow forts
And songs and words, poems and paintings
Will fill the walls
And the halls
And it all
Smells of sunshine.
I watch this every day.
Feeling a hand on my neck
Another wrapped around my waist
I close my eyes and
Dissolve into my favorite place.
Only for a minute.
Only for today.
Just knowing this exists is enough.
It’s enough, if it needs to be.
But if you want to watch this movie with me,
If you share in this daydream
Sit, shake my hand
Press play and let’s see.