Image Credit: Tran Phu via Unsplash.
Written by H. WEND, May 17th, 2023.
I’m thinking about
the moments we spent together
within our daydreams.
My memories
of the family room in the back,
the hazy days
when the sun shined
through the windows
are fading.
Share yours with me,
and I’ll share mine.
Everything is within grasp.
Even a home beyond brass gates
sprawled across an acre or two.
Tell me about the colour blue—
curtains in your kitchen.
Tell me about the foyer table,
the vase,
and lily of the valley.
Share something sweet with me.
Tell me where you are,
lost in the daydream.
You’ve got that look in your eyes.
Meet me there—
we’ll talk about what will be.
Let’s get lost again,
over something sweet.
Where are you—
now?
It’s been so long.
I’ll build the things—
the home sprawled across green grass,
a circular driveway,
a bench beneath a great big tree.
I walk empty hallways,
holding something sweet,
untouched blue curtains,
furniture made of pine.
Walls your hands will never graze.
The hope I’d find you,
curled up on your bed—
fitted with floral-print sheets,
watching a midday film,
grows empty.
The only dreams I share with you—
now,
are the ones long gone
and the ones that awaken
when I fall sleep.
But dreams—
They’re all I have.
Dreams with empty halls,
a quiet kitchen with blue curtains,
and furniture made of pine.
Meet me there—
on the bench
beneath the great big tree.
© H. WEND 2023 Dear Jo-Anne
Dear Jo-Anne 