It was the equivalence of one sided love –
only one – feels your life was a figment of
imagination – although the taste of fear
when you left – as if you would never return –
was a dagger of my own making.
Too young to feel your pain since the mere
existence of your laughter gave way to
adventure – how could one grieve and giggle
at the same time.
You sprinkled me with stardust, and that too
would fly away as I struggled to lift specs with
tiny fingers – to find a hiding place to store the day.
Count sheep I heard as evening drew near –
a shepherd brought gifts – held tightly to a long
stick, his flock followed – but the sheep never
came to visit while I slept.
As darkness seemed to gobble up a room – I told
secrets while I whispered into feathers poking
through my pillow – I gave up counting sheep.
I talked softly as I fell deeper into my own wound.
I wished to dream, show me a pasture – a world
beyond tears wiped onto a bare arm –
or a nose pushed against a screen door.
Each day I look into the eyes of the young – wonder
if they hide fear and for how long – how does one
distinguish from a grin from an authentic smile.
Now I am left as the keeper of a trunk –
four times it crossed the mighty sea – I lift its’ lid
to remove another stack of letters you tied in red ribbon –
as if words would serve as proof, validate my fear –
I searched for reasons – why.
Perhaps you weren’t really
there – and I imagined you?