To My Dearest: The Park

To My Dearest,

There is a park close by to where I have found myself, and often it calls to me when my heart begins to thrum a little too heavy. It is like an alarm, telling me when I need to step away, to reset myself amongst the open air.

I have found quiet companionship in the others whose soles and souls have brought them here. Some as couples, that I admit I have a certain envy for. How they seem to ignore the crispness of these spring days thanks to the heat of their love, cozied up in embrace.

And yet, others have found it a perfect place for their lonely hearts. Bolted to benches, the seekers looking for direction, lost to their pasts, searching for an easy future they can pursue by simply standing up and walking.

And the trees they sing, to keep me from slipping in to the cracks of my own memories and old wishes. The pond reflects more than just my face, as it mimics my thoughts: muddy and sprouting weeds.

Then the wind, it wraps around me, piercing through my coat, to blow away the cobwebs and doubts. You’ve no place here anymore.
I am taken by my thoughts of you, and this a perfect place to sit and miss your voice. And this lonely sitting, it makes me hunger all the more to have you beside me.
I sit off to one side, so there is space for you to come and place yourself next to me.

Someday I know you will stand before me, and ask if you can sit here. And bring all your love with it.

Until then, My Dearest

A poem by Colm Horgan