Her Dream to Share in the Cold by Phil
A lone girl sits poised on a bench, near the railing,
near the streetlit library now locked unto itself
perhaps like dreams in her head,
like slitted eyes locked by tears
turned toward locked cars
trapped on a highway beneath the ledge,
like her lips pinched as if promising to never again share
hopes with deaf ears,
like her hands poised on the icy trembling railing
- trembling in resonance to cars -
fighting the temptation to yield
to soulless uncaring cars
the biography of a brilliant psychologist.
Only her ears stay wide open, as if for a car stopping nearby,
the sound of keys, door opening (as if to volumes of dreams),
a man's few youthful footsteps:
then her heart stopping with the nightmare of his utterly derisive
laugh at her filling the library
as in exasperated scorn he'd astomped out of it,
left her to walk home.
Now, it seems she hears his soothing voice say,
"I am sorry. I do believe in your dream."
An invitation to re-enter dreamland, to drive off
and dream together:
the door opened for her.
That easy? The door open to warm acceptance?
Open eyes. Alone
she stands up and walks
away, alone - all alone with a smile
for the possibly frigid,
but anyway freezing people waiting.
Comments
Posted by douggiedale
That's a good poem and so true. The want to be accepted is part of human nature. Probably because groups of people were most likely to survive with the cave people.