I Can Only Dream For So Long
When the earth came to me,
I was just a sweet and tender young girl.
Falling in love, in the sweet heart of summer,
always seemed like the right thing.
What I am supposed to do.
What feels right.
To meet him, under the honey dripping palms of Charleston,
or to see him, hiking through the dense jungle of roaring trees in Roanoke.
To smell him
oh boy, that smell,
that sun-ripe, peach marmalade, smell.
Home.
Yet I can only dream of it.
Of his cherry pie like good mornings,
and of his moon glow goodbyes.
I can only dream of his heart,
his smooth,
warm,
heartbeat.
I feel like I could jump rope with his heartbeat keeping perfect rhythm.
Yet I dare to dream.
I dare to feel and to love.
And honey, oh sweet honey, my love, I can only dare to dream of you.
Your perfect head and calloused fingers,
because you,
you are only a dream.
A dream that has yet to come true.
Copyright © Rory Wainwright | Year Posted 2019
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