Waiting for the Dawn

Waiting for the Dawn

It’s dark and you are sleeping, 
but I lie awake beside you
and wonder what to make
of all the dreams I had,
those I left by the wayside
not long after we were wed.

Should I still be chasing them
long past the time they were born,
or are the new ones just as real,
the ones that were born with our boys,
the ones that came while loving you?
I hold onto them like it’s me I fear losing.
Every lost year, each missed opportunity
like a leaf falling to the ground. 

I look outside my window,
watching for the dawn to arrive,
and standing there are two maple trees.
Both are bare, yet still very much alive,
holding up the birds until the seasons change
knowing that once again, their arms will be full
of new possibilities, new dreams, new life.
And neither are shedding tears for the piles at their roots,
the leaves discarded when the sun hides its face.
They seem to know that tomorrow, life will return. 

I smiled as I watched you, your breathing
no longer paced, no longer dreaming,
postponing the morning hour, playing possum.
You, waiting for the dawn, wondering
what to make of all the dreams you had,
the ones you left by the wayside when we were wed.

Look outside, I whispered just under my breath,
let’s be like the trees with our arms outstretched,
holding up our boys like the birds, until the leaves return.
Then, maybe, we’ll no longer mourn what we never lost.
 

Brandy
1-22-2010