I sat on my bench waiting for you
Inhaling the winter air I closed my eyes
A kiss touching my lips
A gentle heart keeps us warm amidst the feelings of sharp cold
Reserved for souls with a comfortable love of the quiet
Those who can feel the gifts of loneliness and tight hold with equal respect and desire
A gratitude for discomfort as it nudges us towards our sincerest warmth
The ones who have faith and trust in the intuitive nature of departure and arrival
Snow falling gently dresses my surround in a blanket of soft white
Tree limbs wrapping me in their nurturing cover
Reminding me of the importance to be generous and without ask in love
Balanced with the humility of knowing it creates a story and life much larger than you or I
Allowing my ears to hear the steps you take
Allowing me to honor your path with care
Slowly my heart learned to trust in the quiet
While I was sitting on my bench waiting for you
Photo Credit ~ Harriet Fancott
I I sometimes wonder if I read Alice in Wonderland too many times as a child. Perhaps too many rainy days spent outside as a 6 year old? In the quiet looking at the water rushing down the street creating great stories of wild, river adventures in my mind. While all the other kids were playing kick the can in the August heat there I was laying on my back in the grass forming animal shapes in the clouds. Watching neighborhood kids build tree forts while I sat on the cement contently drawing my pictures on scrap pieces of paper with my broken crayons.
Always observing, quietly watching. Not understanding it all but unbendingly curious. When life became noisy, felt unfair or hard I would make my own wonderland. Diving in to my vivid imagination full of color and magic. With a delayed blink I could transport myself to a wonderful place where the flowers grew better, the grass softer and greener, and the sky always bright blue with fluffy white clouds. Rainbows around every corner. Everyone smiled and was full of love in my wonderland. Hearts were so big and full you just had to stop and say hello to them.
With a delayed blink I can still transport myself there. I wonder, was it protective nature or early wisdom. Do we have imagination to make the world feel a little less lonely and harsh? Or maybe we have imagination because we are the people who are supposed to create a more magical world? Maybe we see it so others can believe a better world exist for them too?
Either way, I like my wonderland.