because I knew.
I was thankful
For your retreat.
I identified completely,
With your need.
I wasn’t the manifestation,
Of your childhood dream.
I have always been,
Oddly unexpected, in the end.
There, if you listen surely
You will hear a siren’s song for mercy
The tone as mesmerizing as she is
It will cause you to question this reality
Her reality, and
The reality of those who do not hear her.
Who is the chosen one?
He who hears, understands the song and watches over her,
Or the others who are blessed with the ability to move along, oblivious?
Might it be them.
No battle sworn into, not fated through the sea, nor deprived of who she really is…
To create genuine happiness could be sealed in the simplest of moments
There would be nothing to their bliss, really:
He’d understand her crooked grin
And fight forever to see it again
Along with the dimples, and the sound which create them,
Causing the wink in his eye to stay
And it being the reason for her
Attention seeker… Yes, you, Wind! Am I too close? Push me away, Or slam against me; I need to feel: here.