8th Wonder

Dear Ab,

There once was a time when I admired you, your old school education of charm and chivalry dosing me ever so lightly with the essence of..Light Blue, so new and seeming true when compared to the many who never became the few that almost did but never got...my time.  There once was a rhyme called You and I, a mask lasting just long enough to veil an authenticity I didn’t want to see, right in front of me.  Oh how the mind makes it all too easy, sleazy even; These Charades of Denial: a nice surprise smiling in my face at the seeming predicament and inside out turn of priorities you said you never would but have, abandoned in fearful ignorance.  A dream of unlimited spiritual potential that I am to walk through...alone.  Because the stone of you can only be dressed as a caring rose for so long before the role must wilt to factuality. 

And so this dream will fade away to a new day.  And I will sing and write saddened songs with violins draping my scene, as the beach blows through my hair airing my Tune of Life into reality.  And I will find gratitude in what is happening FOR me, because of meeting you.  A saddened gratitude…

For our cadenced cue on The Staff of Clichés has melted away like old makeup from yesterday, from last night even.  And I sit, breathing in the example I wish to set for my little star and breathing out what turned out to be the unvarnished character of what you stand for and who you are... 

Our 72-hour interlude was up..

A long time ago...

Thank you for showing me,

My strength..

'Cause anyone can look good..

On paper..