The air is bitter cold.
The distance between warmth and cold confusion is brief,
And only marginally tolerable;
The wind stings my cheeks
As I make my way to you.
I would face a thousand stings
To arrive at your door.
The door swings wide.
As I step through the doorway, I see you.
You are busy, but not too busy to turn
As I say, “Alright. I’m taking over.”
When you see me, you smile broadly;
You say nothing at first.
You look away, trying to gather your wits;
Or perhaps, you are gathering your thoughts.
“Here he is again–what should I say?”
“What will happen?” “How do I look?”
“What will he think?”
I stare briefly while returning a smile,
Then walk away to give you a moment to compose yourself.
I gather a few items off the shelf and pretend to shop.
My heart is racing; my mind is conjuring:
“What will I say?” “What will she think?”
I approach the counter unseen; I hesitate briefly;
This is not the right time, so I step away.
I divert my attention momentarily.
I distract myself with another conversation,
All the while thinking of what to say.
I call to you aloud. You respond by saying,
“Oh, I see how it is.” It’s time to play.
I recover quickly by making excuses.
I pedal backwards; the transaction goes on as planned.
My mind is racing right along with my heart.
I approach you. You turn and approach me.
The smile returns; the joy ascends.
Drifting, sailing, floating, dreaming–now.
Now, you are there. I hold you close.
I pull away just enough to see your face.
Luminous, brilliant, emotive–I bring your face closer.
I imagine falling headfirst into those eyes.
My mind swirls–I swoon for one fleeting, glorious moment.
As quickly as I conjure the feeling, it’s over. I run away.
I drive quickly down the road, excitement flowing through me.
Although I am soon miles away, I am still standing near you.
You are still there with me. Time and space are frozen in memory.
All I can do is slowly breathe in and slowly exhale.
Nothing moves. Nothing changes. I abide in the memory.
I can feel the moment, the spirit, and the light brightening.
Will I ever know if you felt it too?
© September 2016 by JJHII24
2 thoughts on “Reverie”
John, this is Beautiful. I have to hold back my tears. Love you…Patrice
Patrice…thank you so much for your kind response. Reverie is often used by poets and creative writers as a means of expanding on particular ideas and creatively exploring their implications at length, without necessarily having experienced them in a given situation. Even a mundane shopping trip can become a vehicle for poetry and fanciful musings if we allow ourselves to entertain the realm of possibility.
That you found something within this poem which resonated with you so well allows me to suppose that I have succeeded to some degree in expressing this idea, and I appreciate very much that you thought to respond….John H.