where ever could you be?
on the days that it smells like spring you would leave notes and snowdrops on my doorstep, and when they come out you'd bundle some lily-of-the-valley in there, too. you'd ask me to dress myself like a 5 year old and we'd go to the park and play on the swings and race down the slide into the others arms. we'd play hopscotch with the children and deliberately lose, and leave before they figure us out. when the darkness falls, we'd go back home and show off our scrapes and bruises, and have graham crackers and apple juice while we watch Beauty and the Beast, stretched out on the floor.
at 7:30, you'd pour a bath and turn your back as i slowly sink in, letting the vanilla and steam caress my skin to silk. you'd wash my hair, gently running your fingers through the bubbly strands and forming them into a mohawk atop my head without ever letting me know exactly what you were up to. and when my head lolls against the side of the tub you'd kiss my fingertips and write poetry on my shoulders, letting the frail, eager bubbles steal the syllables and paint them onto the ceiling. you always had a way with words.
finally you'd lead me to bed and tuck me in, the sheets and quilts molding to my curves and making me smile with the sleepy sort of security that only you can offer. you would tell me stories until i fell asleep and then slip in beside me and wrap your arms around my waist.
i will awake in the wee hours of morning's first light to find you in my bed, and a blue ribbon in my hair.
at 7:30, you'd pour a bath and turn your back as i slowly sink in, letting the vanilla and steam caress my skin to silk. you'd wash my hair, gently running your fingers through the bubbly strands and forming them into a mohawk atop my head without ever letting me know exactly what you were up to. and when my head lolls against the side of the tub you'd kiss my fingertips and write poetry on my shoulders, letting the frail, eager bubbles steal the syllables and paint them onto the ceiling. you always had a way with words.
finally you'd lead me to bed and tuck me in, the sheets and quilts molding to my curves and making me smile with the sleepy sort of security that only you can offer. you would tell me stories until i fell asleep and then slip in beside me and wrap your arms around my waist.
i will awake in the wee hours of morning's first light to find you in my bed, and a blue ribbon in my hair.