I've been told I'm growing up,
becoming older and more mature,
and I sign the lease myself
and I place the plates
back on the shelf.
Independence, I've found
is like its name
in that many times
it means
being alone.
I've become settled in,
and I drive down the street,
but the snow-capped treetops
aren't as inspiring
without a shoulder to tap,
to say, Turn
take a look.
And I've nearly forgotten
what it's like
to have another hand
hold the wheel.
But the waitress knows
where to place the check,
and I can really stretch
my arms in a theater.
Lately I've found myself watching
couples waltz at weddings
while I trace the ring
around the base
of my wineglass.
In circles.
In awe.
3 comments:
Though I hope you know that you're not alone, but away. With each passing day, you're arms are stretched to hold the hands of this other and the waitress places a check next to the box labeled "He's enamored". And the walks we share towards life's little miracles...fully bloomed flowers draped in snowy kisses. Circles not on wine, but over wine as our dance mimics spinning vinyl- its song is our soundtrack, our backdrop. ..together
perhaps the glass if half full, eh?
thank you, for this beaut.
and where can I find a place that labels to-go boxes so pleasantly?
if i was to guess, i would say that you've filled your portion just as i have mine..
whether the two halves combine to form a full is another question altogether.. optimism at its finest? perhaps.
may i inquire as to why you'd like a to-go box?
oh, and no.. thank you for sharing.. my silly confessions are only a result of your affect.
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