Thursday, December 20, 2007

baby

i have an urge to write. my head full of fluff. i am tired of photographs. i want to say something. but what? i want to speak to the inside, shout down your hidden corridors where no one has been. you call everybody baby, but there's only one baby in your heart.

frozen lakes. a snippit of your words left on my sleeve. the sun having less memory than we. is it possible. have we been here before? have we walked the frozen lands? i saw the place where you were born across the rotten weeds. the tower rising into the grey skies, alone, ominous. it is not a house you would have built. it is not the castle you wanted to live in.

hold on to the fur of the ice bear. it is a polar bear but you name it ice. he came centuries ago to bring you across the great divide.

i want to lay here with you. your right hand in my hair, your left hand on my belly. i want to tell you stories of the house we went to. making angels in the dust. let's go there again. so much more to explore. ghosts to chase. i have a feeling i shall find a long lost heirloom, a clock ticking still.

lets paint another picture, dressed in white. hold on to my heart. you call everybody baby, but there's only one baby in your heart.