I talk of wishes, dreams, embraces, closeness, gentle kisses under a moonlight sky. Times to see the deepness in you. As we struggle together to find a oneness in us. I look for nothing but what I can give back in return. I want something true, honest, enduring.
I see others. They have many others. Some I see, some they hide, only to themselves. They talk of things that should be between only two, who care as one. They care not who is looking as they snare another, then another, .....then another. They talk of many things, give presents freely. Sometimes I wish I was as worldy. Then I could talk to you like then do when they turn your eyes away and you see only them. Yet when I look, I see the same presents, the same talk to all they know. They treat others as objects, things, possessions. Things to toy with, play with as in a game. I see passages from these impostors. Baited hooks, drifting in the pond as the others swim innocently by. They wait for anyone to see the bait, then they sink the hook, capturing them I wonder when they will sink their hooks into you and your thoughts and you disappear.
I do not wish to toy, to play. I want to cherish, adore, admire, to love as I have never loved ever before. I only want one. They want as many things as they can lure into their webs. I want to run away, but the comfort, care, kindness, sensual exploration, and love I have felt keeps me coming back.
I wish I could make the world go away but for you and me. Only then would I know for sure.
A flower caught my attention one day, I stopped and looked. It was a pretty flower, it's petals soft, silky to the touch. I sat and admired the flower, talked to it. Told it how beautiful it was to me. The flower smiled back at me and simply said "Thank you". I smiled and left, promising myself to return to see the flower again. When I did, the flower looked even more marvelous than before. As I talked to the flower, the petals became richer in color, beautiful tints appeared as if by magic. The flower spoke of things that were; things that are; and, things that could be, might be. But never spoke of what should be, will be, can be. The flower only said the future is what is made of the yesterdays and todays. What came of yesterday, builds today and can change tomorrow. I smiled at the flower and made a silent promise to return tomorrow to see what today left from yesterday. As I turned to leave the flower asked to see into my eyes. I bent close, as I looked at the flower, I saw the flower change into the most magnificently beautiful vision my mind had even seen before. I left transfixed, knowing I would return again and again and again... my tomorrow became my today, from all the yesterdays with the flower.