Maybe it's Sam
He grows more and more like you every day. I love it and it scares me. I fell for him even before he opened his mouth. I imagine you’ll play together some day – I can’t wait to see it.
He sits and writes music that I can hear. The words that I hoped would appear in your journal appear in his hand – the only difference is he's left-handed.
I imagine that your music is similar and I smile at that. I wonder though if it was all a ruse - fate's ironic farce - and after fifteen years, it will turn out I was searching for him, preparing to be with him, knowing him. Only the stars know for sure.
The evening will be warm and laughter abound. I wonder briefly what you will say – the look in your eyes if I show up with him.
What a paradox – the poet in her navy blue pinstriped suit. Her artist, a painter, slightly Spanish, with dreadlocks and a love of all things beautiful and heartfelt.
Posted by Amanda at April 08, 2003 02:06 PM
