Ours Alone

I show Chelsea a poem I wrote.

 

A young woman standing by a blue sea stretching out forever.

Her man sailed away to a war, and she watches the sea, waiting for him.

She grows old, waiting for him

 

I imagined the young woman’s long golden hair.

I imagined the young woman’s simple blue dress.

I imagined the sadness in her clear blue eyes, always watching the horizon.

Then I wrote it all down.

 

Chelsea reads the poem, and she sees all these things.

But the golden hair she sees, and the simple blue dress, and sorrowful eyes

Are all made by her imagination in her own way.

She doesn’t see what I saw.

 

I show Chelsea the poem, and we share something,

Intimate vision, a piece of my heart, a shard of my inner eye

And the emotions of the broken and betraying world I find.

But either of the visions in our minds, is ours alone.

 

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s