I’ve forgotten your name,
but one glance at the back of a pear-shaped girl
in a tight striped top and jeans,
brought you sailing through the years.
Short, feathered hair.
Acne scars.
Knock-kneed shuffle.
Booming laugh.
Where did I know you?
Whoever you are,
I hope you’re happy today.
I hope your life has been all you dreamed.
It’s all just possibility,
isn’t it?
The hopes
The dreams
The wishes.
What ifs that linger about us
orbiting like electrons, protons, neutrons
Actively giving us
possibilities
if only we can combine the other elements
to bring them to reality.
Once upon a time
when someone was laid up
visitors would send cards
friends would deliver flowers
your buddies brought balloons
until the sick room was transformed
into a jolly place, papered in good wishes.
Now,
the wishes are all virtual
and the distraction is digital.
If only the pain was, too.
In the hidden folds
a tiny desire rests,
A covert longing,
unacknowledged.
You sense it’s there
a tiny, unseen lump,
caught in the fibres
of your life.
You ignore it,
though you feel it
nudging
incessantly.
You keep it secret.
Until finally
you must pick at it,
stretch threads apart,
catch a corner,
then pulling,
and pulling,
and pulling,
like a silk scarf
from a magician’s wand,
more,
more,
more,
until the room is filled
with the vivid kaleidoscope of colour
the billowing
reality of your unspoken dreams
coming true.
