A dream of being loved

17

Dec

A dream of being loved

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I don’t know what I am. I wouldn’t claim to be a romantic. Too many ideas make me roll my eyes. But then I write poems like this one. I wanted to say something about who I am and what I want and, in some respects, what I don’t want. The grand passions I read about make me sad because no one loves me like that. But I’m also not sure I want that. Or could trust that. And yet… So maybe I am a romantic. Or maybe I’m just human.

Anyway, my poem:

A dream of being loved

I dream of being loved
Like the first warm wind
Of spring that promises
The end of winter though
Snow still lays heavy and soft.

Like the sand pulled
From around my feet
At each wave’s insistence
That this is not where
It belongs, but with the wave.

Like the white light scattered
Across the room in rainbow
Fragments by the prism that
Knows its parts and wants
Them all to shine.

Like the ember that warms
When flames have died
To deeper reds and purple
That may flare again,
I dream of being loved.

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