The Epitome of a Wish 



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To the symphony of gentle winds
conducting in every crispy morning
of spring,
a bed of confused tulips and roses–
in colors of Roy G. Biv–
is waltzing with me
in sweet harmony.

 

To the ballad of swells
playing in every tepid noon
of summer,
a rush of ripples in calmest tides
are smooching my toes
and romancing my heels. . .
. . . can’t walk;
. , . too teased–
my timid steps
can’t deny.

 

To the whispering lullabies
in all of fall,
he puts me to sleep,
obviously smitten
watching me
snore in peace
by dawn,
when I wake up,
he says “Cheese.”

 

To the medley of carols
christmasing merry and bright,
he brings warmth
even if the fireplace
is not alight–
in all of winter’s coldest nights–
he’s keeping Krampus out of sight.

 

. . . the epitome of a wish;
a dream
too perfect
for the quite imperfect me
to realized.

 
 
 


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7 thoughts on “The Epitome of a Wish 

  1. You’ve got such a great way with words and feelings ~ “a dream too perfect for the quite imperfect me to realized.” It is funny, what makes this dream so perfect and obtainable is listening to one of my best friends as a kid, Kermit 🙂 I love this post of yours :-)!!!!!

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