I want to build us a thick nest of sailor masts, seawater, and stars
I want to run through hollow quarries with you and echo each other's dreams against the stony walls
Run my hands over the quartz crystal. They will resemble the rocks inside your pockets
Meet me where the sea massages the mountains
We’re cocooned against the train car
You're looking up at me with this swagger with your hand curled on my knee
But then you crack a girlish smile and I'm giggling again
Be my train hopping wife
My partner in adventure
We're traveling light and living earth close
Your eyes are sparkling at me
Doing what they did when we first met
The moon beams and bounces across the glass
Buy a small house with me
I'll learn how to build you as many skylights that will fit the ceiling so that the stars can sleep with us every night
The garden will be at the foot of the front porch and I'll grow enough green peas and peppers for our giant salad bowls and forget me nots will bloom and form mousy stubble at the edge of the lawn every other year
We'll have one big dog and a little cat and maybe even a coop of chickens
Maybe even a backyard swing
Maybe even a couple kids that spit watermelon seeds at each other when we're not looking
I want a gallon of belly laughs for breakfast every day. And really delicious apples for dessert
We'll go to work each morning and come home with face-cracked-open smiles, certain that this is what our mothers meant when they said
“go do something that doesn't feel like work”
About the Creator
Kaylee Champa
22 year old writer and psychology student. I write poetry, fiction and more. Inspired by horror shorts, Ray Bradbury and surrealism
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.