Lovely Things

I wish that I could hold

All the love between us in my hands.

Every time you would look up from your book

And say “Listen to this…”

And read me a sentence or page or chapter

Because you loved it

Or didn’t understand it

Or were curious about my opinion,

And when I told you what I thought,

You would nod like I had just answered

A question that you had been born wondering.

Every hour we spent in the grass

Collecting dandelions and tying them into crowns.

Yours would inevitably fall apart

Because although your hands are good for many things,

Such as braiding hair

And hitting piano keys

And holding mine,

They are not very good for making dandelion crowns.

So I would put my own on top of your head

And you would smile like I had given you

A ring of pure golden sunlight.

Every night you came home late

And took ginger steps across the floorboards

That would inevitably creak despite your effort.

You would come into our room

Opening the door slowly

And feel your way to the closet

Where you would get undressed in the dark.

The next morning,

You would always ask if you woke me,

And I would always say no.

Every knowing glance,

Every shared umbrella,

Every “I will come with you,”

Even every tearful goodbye.

I would stuff these things in my pockets

And press them into books

And tape them to the ceiling so that they are the first thing I see when I wake up.

Then,

I would send some of them to you

In a nice little package

So that you could do the same.

But these things are not meant for touch

And so cannot be placed in droors

Or wrapped up and weighed and mailed to you.

Therefore,

I am giving you these words to tell you

That although we cannot hold such things

In our hands,

We must grasp them tightly

In our hearts.