it's become my favorite time
just past the line that seperates day and night
when man surrenders his grip on the city
and the earth has it's first opportunity to draw a breath
in the cool still quietness.......
time for me also
to put the day behind
with it's successes, failures and mediocrity
and to just be......
.........floating ..........
on the lightness of the evening air
and time to make my daily pilgrimage
past the enchanted cottage
situated between a perfect example of urban decay
and a testament to middle-class tacky
half covered with wisteria
it's windows draped in sheer cotton tapestries of moons and stars
that grand old station wagon out front
leaning against the curb
covered with a bumper crop of "be here now's" and "save the whale's" and so on....
a peel and stick spokesman for the new idealisms
together
they create an atmosphere
almost magical
almost mistical
under the rising moon
but none of them
alone or together
reason enough
to bring me past each evening on my appointed rounds
like an old-fashioned cop patrolling his beat
rattling door knobs
making sure each one is locked
each citizen secure
safely tucked away
'till the morrow
no that which calls me
to this spot
with such regularity
is a very simple fact:
it's where SHE lives
where i first glimpsed her
one early morn
just past sunrise
the new day streaming through her nightgown
highlighting
carressing
her soft shoulders
taut stomach
creamy skin
firm loins
golden hair
she looked up
just for a moment
and smiled
and for an instant
our eyes locked
and immediatley i knew the secrets of her soul
and shared mine with her
my heart stopped
as she turned and went inside the enchanted cottage
closing the door
on a possibility
but it's just past nightfall
that i can actualy feel her essence
the air perfumed
yet clean
her bath finished
hair up
she sits by the window
and writes
or plays with her dog
and i
sit on the sidewalk
across the street
and try to think her thoughts
she is gentle
graceful
at peace
i wonder why she sits alone
i would love to bring her a cup of tea
or cool lemonade
depending on the season
and we could sit on her front porch
and rock
and she could tell me
her favorite color
the songs she sings when no one can hear
the poems she's memorized
the movies that moved her to see them again and again
if she ever had a pony
or still believes in santa
i'd do my best to make her laugh
feel comfortable
instead i dream
about the two of us
running through the forest
dancing in the surf
sharing an ice cream
our lips touching
gently
passionately
completely
arguing about silly stuff
buying presents
making plans
getting mad
making up
i wonder if we had kids
would they grow up straight and true and make us proud
or cause us to become bitter
and despise each other
i wonder if she likes fruit in her cereal and going to the library
and sleeping under the stars and reruns of m*a*s*h
i bet she gives blood
sponsors a child overseas
believes in god
and has a drawer just for tye-dyed stuff
i hope she's happy
life treats her good
and that she never wants for anything
as for me
i also have a wish.......
i wish i knew her name
Reason for writing:
it explains itself i think
Birth sign: Not entered
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