My love, don’t die

My young mind reveled in imagining dinosaurs to life,

sparkling star-scapes in watercolor,

crystal oceans unfolding beyond my bedposts.

Playing for hours, the forest my domain

away from rational thoughts.

Then I grew

And trodded,

through expectations,  and doubts..

a prisoner with walls rising about

the bars narrowing by the day.

My mind working on naught

But a million better possibilities

ever-basting itself in sticky regret.

Broken recursions of ‘what if’?

A destiny chained in neurotic providence.

The artist knows well the pained barrier

between his mind and hand,

Dancing beauty in a lover’s eyes

brought into watercolor

Begot from

Bony fingers, a wooden brush

and stark effort.

And then I paint you,

your wide arms taking this world in embrace.

Together we lived out this dream,

never afraid of the next day,

never imagining another destiny.

I would toil my brush at every star,

conduct a symphony of crickets, 

plucked with my fingers by piece,

So that you might have a good night's sleep. 

And I would read to your innocent ears,

in such a way that you might know

the truest blanket of my soul.