Want

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.