Through jungles of thick dense mirages
we quietly slip through the darkness seeking
the light of a thousand daydreams
we know lay beyond the realm of youth.
When we were small we longed for age,
to be like those we saw around us like tall trees
and beautiful willowy women who entered rooms
and silence greeted their demure smiles,
jewels dripping from arms and necks
as the music played and the dances began
we watched from behind potted plants
meager in our pajama clad selves,
uninvited to the ball.
We pretended in front of mirrors,
decorating faces with left-over hand me downs
crumbling blue shadows and dried tubes and pots-
and broken glittering necklaces with missing pearls,
we bowed and curtsied and spun with joy
yet somewhere inside we knew it was just play
the tattered gowns and the laughter we endured
on playground fields from the older girls,
we stood with our faces outstretched to the sun,
yearning to be seen
in the overgrown garden of this make believe.
When we were young we longed for more
and as we became the trees so tall
we looked with love at those still small,
remembering the good
and casting out the sad,
now we long for those softer times of quiet,
the moments of innocence before the dark clouds
of want and need and anger became
a fabric of our lives we had not asked for,
we long for that peace
of yesterday once more.
I saw this image and this is what came to mind, no fears my friends, I’m in a good place, sitting in the shade of a beautiful Florida winter? day, listening to the world move in its own special way and just being.
Peace, Love and Patchouli 