Child’s Play

 

I don’t want to be the stupid one

Wrapped in your arms

A child caught in the magic

Of bubbles floating in the air

It would make me need you

In more ways than I am willing to admit

(As I secretly hope to)

Have to make the decision

Choosing between the well-worn path

And the new, freshly-cut trail

Some wayward traveler

Caught between

Knowing and unknowing

Stuck between

Wanting and denying

 

Some part of me holds back

The reluctant journey

An imagined imposition

Spun from the tenuous threads

Of gossamer dreams

Floating in the air

Lazily weaving a Technicolor fabric

To keep the dreamer warm

Multi-colored fantasies

Dancing like sugar-plums

In the mind of the

Innocent, young child inside.

 

“It would make sense,” he says,

“If it would do what I want,”

As he plays with his lump of clay

Molding it into something

Making nothing

As he presses his malleable hope

Into an unreasonable facsimile of love

Tears streaming down his face

As he realizes that even clay hearts

Can harden

            Crack

                 Fall

                    Break

That even clay dreams

Dry up

     Wither away

            Disappear