Cowboys,Beyblades and Gunpowder

When I was three and still in playschool,
You would tease me for my funny haircut and nosy accent.
And I would just shrug it off as we got older,
But you would always find me crying silently in the apple orchard Grandma Milie haf planted.
And I always wondered how you did that.

And you would hold my hand and tell how it was alright and you didn't really mean it,
And how I was clever with words but looked silly with red nose and puffy eyes.
Yet I would cry on and tell you how it just wasn't about you,
And I actually didn't fit with my funny haircut and nosy accent.

But you would smile and tell me stories of Indiana and Texas and guns and rifles and beyblades and Pokemon and everything there was in your world.
And I would fall asleep in your lap but did I ever tell you how the stories bored me ,
Or how warm you felt?
But i would listen to the stories anyway and at night,
I would dream if cowboys and gunpowder and go treasure hunting with Captain Hook.

Remember that day when Mom invited you over dinner
Because you had helped me with precalc
and she was grateful?
So was I though I never said so.
And I was the one who mixed pepper in your soup ,
To have my sweet venegance for the days in playschool,
When you were so capable of driving me crazy,
Although I accidently exchanged the bowls.

And that Christmas when it snowed softly,
And i gave you those gloves for present-
The pink ones with yellow butterflies stitched on them?
Well those were for the stories of Indiana and rifles you bored me with.
That Christmas when Grandma Milie prepared her secret recipe and everything seemed so silent,
And I rushed outdoors because I had forgotten my boots,
But you followed me to make sure I didn't get lost in the dark.

I did catch cold that New Year though I never told you,
But you figured out anyway,
Just as you figured out everything about me.
I didn't get any of it then though I still dreamt of cowboys and horses from youtr world when I didn't want to.
Why few years ago I was the girl with the funny haircut and nosy accent
And eyes that would melt into a perenial,incessant flow triggered by the simplest of things.
But it was like you somehow turned the deep freeze on,
And the flow just froze with eyes sparkling with dreams that weren't mine-yet mine.

So when you showed up to my room at midnight in midst of a hailstorm,
With the rain tattering on the windows,
Beating hard against the glasspanes,
Though not as hard as my very heart thumping against my chest,
I knew something was different.
And your voice never trembled the way it did that night,
And it was 12:00 a.m. and Grandma Milie was sound asleep,
Perhance dreaming of apples and apple pies,
And so would have been I though dreaming of beyblades and cowboys,
Had you not taken my hand and gotten on your knee and told me how you loved me.

And I wasn't just the girl with the funny haircut and nosy accent,
There was more,there always had been more and you wished you had said it before.
And I wish you had too because then we would have had all the time in the world perhaps,
And I would have held your hand like in the apple orchard,
And taken you to the park where we had played hide and seek as kids.

And we would go night trekkingand climb mountains together and watch the sun set,
And go hunting for shooting stars and hold hands when we found one,
And catch all that is good and pure and old and beautiful like firefiles in glass jars,
And bring it home,unfetter it again to light our dark.
And we would get to the clouds and laugh at how tiny the world looked from up there
And how insignificant our lives seemed,and then glide to rainbows,
Fill our empty pallets with the seven hues,
Paint the walls of our little house with tje colours we had created.

I wish you had said it before,or I had realized it before,
Or cowboys and beyblades had just made a little sense before the speeding truck had hit you straight and hard,
And I wish I had had the courage to hold on a bit tighter before its mamoth tyres had crumbled every bone of your body,
Like bricks crumbling in an earthquake.
Like chalk crumbling in my hands,
Or more like the world crumbling around me.

Remember the Christmas you followed me so that I wouldn't get lost in the dark?
Why then did you leave me in the dark I wonder.
And back in playschool when you said I was clever with words?
Why then did you not wait for one last goodbye?
And those evenings in the orchard when you would hold me until I stopped crying?
Where are you when the deep freezer needs switching on again?
When the hand needs holding again?
When the girl with funny haircut needs to be teased again,
Needs someone to find her no matter what,
No matter when,when she's sitting in Grandma Milie's orchard ,so alone in a long time?

It's 12:00 a.m. again and the rain's tattering in the glass pane.
Tip tap tip it goes.
And Grandma Mile is fast asleep.
I would have been too had I not showed up at the park again,
Looking for something,someone I lost along the way.
And I wish this game of hide n' seek would end,
With me winning this one time,
Though I can't find you even behind the tree which has our names etched on it,
From a distant life now.
I would have been asleep to had I not been afraid to dream of cowboys and gunpowder at night.