A lament of the direction life took, compared to the hopes and dreams of youth.
When growing up I often dreamed of Someday-- the life I'd have, the woman I'd become. I yearned and hoped for things I thought were simple. I had no use for fame or flashy things; I didn't picture wealth or fancy clothes.
I dared to dream of Love, above all else-- the kind that warms cold nights and eases fears. I didn't need too much, I
knew for sure
-- just one kindred soul to love with all my heart, just one giving heart to love me back each day, just one life to share with him through good and bad.
From
L
ove, I felt that all the rest would grow. We'd work and make a
modest,
happy home--
a
yard
, a little garden, and an apple tree,
And maybe a few chickens in the back.
One by one we'd build our happy family with three or four or more delightful kids. We'd rejoice, and we would name them from the Bible. They'd look like both of us, and fill our hearts. Above the kitchen sink would be a window
,
where
I'd watch them play, while washing dinner dishes.
We'd sing and play and love and laugh together!
We'd go to church and fellowship with friends.
I'd wake up early just to make his breakfast.
I'd greet him eagerly when he'd get home.
I'd be comfort to him in his darkest hours.
I'd be there helping soothe his deepest wounds.
I'd do my best to ease his heavy burdens,
and take weight from his shoulders to my own.
He'd be my world, my center, and my life.
I'd give him everything he'd want and more.
At night, strong arms would always pull me close.
Our
truest love
would fuel enduring passion, Fulfilling and replenishing each other, soft
est
whispers
would
remind
us who we
are
while not forgetting who we
used to be.
Sadly, Someday didn't turn out like I'd hoped.
Every night I lie in bed, cold and alone,
yearning for strong arms that aren't with me--
emptiness and tears instead of passion.
I have a yard, a garden, and apple tree,
but with no one there to share them with, they
seem to be illusions, empty placeholders for a life I never knew but long for, still. Where did I go wrong, I often wonder? Why was it no one wanted my forever? Did I ask too much, or fail to seize my chance? Was I too naive or idealistic in those dreams I formed in youth, so long ago?
A happy version of this poem, as soon through the eyes of my former, idealistic younger self can be found here: http://www.writerscafe.org/writing/Ashfallen/1390472/
My Review
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You bring us into a gorgeous fantasy of how your perfect future would look and feel. Someday can still happen for you my dear, never lose hope that. Are are already part of the way there, you just did things a little out of order is all. Fantastic work with a beautiful narrative.
You bring us into a gorgeous fantasy of how your perfect future would look and feel. Someday can still happen for you my dear, never lose hope that. Are are already part of the way there, you just did things a little out of order is all. Fantastic work with a beautiful narrative.