I wrote a love poem once
But the words never made it on paper
Instead, they flew right out the window
And they rose and fell and evaded me
before shooting across a rose covered sky
Like a comet during a sunset
For two decades,
They followed the waves of the Seven Seas
Crashed against the banks of countless countries
Weaved their way through Chocolate Hills and
Machu Picchu, along the Great Pyramids of Giza,
Through the South Pole, and then into the Northern Lights
Where they stayed for a long while.
And for a time,
I thought I had lost them forever
That they had fallen into some dark abyss
With no one to catch them
Or found their way into a stranger’s distant dream
who would wake up that morning
And forget.
I had never imagined
that they would have fallen haphazardly onto your lap
–– unannounced and without preamble
ages before I had even heard your name,
and
I would have never dreamed
That the stars and the moon and the countless suns
had all planned the exact moment when we would meet,
me, with my unmarked paper
you, with my worn and well-traveled words
and that you had been waiting
all this time
to return them to me.
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