The Wings
I was the little girl who used to fall and skin her knees And then grew up and always seemed to skin her heart “Don’t cry, doll.” My grandma’s words that I still hold to As I’m drying my own tears
Time plays such soothing music while we dance to pass the years The fleeting words like windblown sand across the page We swim through echoes making peace with other loves And broken dreams with shards of truth, while holding onto hopes That hide like frightened children in the dark
You opened up the door that leads into your memories Without a map you welcomed me inside To wander through the narrow halls together Some passions shared, some yet to be discovered
We looked behind the brick and mortar Of these walls we’d built to shore up all the past Illusions never vary - they are the things created By a gentle hand that longs to hold the dream
I’ll let you in if you can promise you won’t see me That you won’t notice all the dust Or ask about the things that lurk in corners Or that hide behind the drapes
Oh wait, I may still use that What is that thing – the one beneath the sheet? I’d forgotten all about it But maybe it was really for the best
I can’t recall what I was thinking When I offered you my wings The rusty hinges atrophied and sore from lack of use Or falling from the sky too many times
Perhaps I thought I’d never miss them I half believe you may have thought the same But nonetheless you took them And up you flew while from the ground I watched So glad for you but puzzled and bemused Because somehow I’d always thought you’d take me with you
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