Email Poem

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Personal Note:

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Poem

Want. I want I want I want. 
I may be a greedy person, yes, but maybe for the right things. 

I want knowledge. 
I want facts to pile in my head like stuffed animals on a child's bed.
I want to know why blue is associated with calm. 
I want to understand the butterflies flitting in my stomach. 
I want to discern the meaning of dreams.
I want knowledge.

I want to see.
I want my eyes to scamper across all the beauty of the Earth like a deer through a woodland.
I want to gaze at the Aurora Borealis, the Grand Canyon, the Amazon Rainforest.
I want to recognize the look of awe on my sister’s face on her wedding day.
I want to lay my eyes on the purples and pinks of a sunrise.
I want to see. 

I want imperfections.
I want imperfections to etch stories into my mind like fingers in a block of clay.
I want to savor the unorganized pattern of the palm of my hand.
I want the frail and yellowed pages of my favorite novels.
I want to hear the squeak and snort of my mother's laugh. 
I want imperfection.

I want to create.
I want my art hung in museums like an A+ paper on a fridge.
I want to waste my days swirling blues and greens.
I want to form the spark of hope in a lost girl's mind.
I want assemble a string of powerful words.
I want to create.

I want love.
I want my heart to burn with white flames for that special person.
I want to sleep at night knowing I’m cared for.
I want to share easy smiles and pancakes on Sunday mornings.
I want tangled limbs and happy sighs.
I want love.
If all this makes me greedy, then so be it.
Because I want.
I want I want I want.

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