There is a life we lead,
based upon a wish,
perhaps an accumulation
over time.
I once walked along gravel roads to visit a friend,
she would wait upon her summer porch,
the heat of the day baking our skin,
yet lemonade,
or simply the beauty of her eyes,
would always lead my way,
like coming home,
yet this was fantasy,
not quite as real as life is
today.
I think about that porch,
the one we did make our own,
it had pebbles, and locked doors,
though it allowed us to dream
of a world tucked
away in the wood,
together we might sit
holding hands,
wishing forever,
yet knowing in our reality,
this would only be
a short time,
and then our lives
would have to return,
to a life
we only knew
alone.
Yet isolation was never complete
we had the laughter and cries
that would only emanate
from dearest child eyes.
For many years we
would try to live a journey
by societal ramifications,
the sort of law
in morality
would cause
the freezing of our hearts,
unraveling a soul,
and yet,
we knew that enchantment
we could feel in the moment
would never go away,
unless we allowed
the light to
become a wisp, a notion,
a flickering memory.
© Scott F Savage 6/2020
apersonaljourney - stories of love 