photo by http://www.sxc.hu/profile/mikelawrey
We meet on an autumn day, under the trees
Fast forward one year and a half, and now we’re here – done, broken, finished.
But this is how I would play it today – if I had one chance at a replay . . . .
I would have kissed you on that fateful day, in the autumn breeze,
As we stood underneath the majestic trees.
I would argue less, listen more, even if it did bore.
Not call so much, cause I can live still Without you being here.
I’d put my arm around you while sitting on the hill.
I wouldn’t reply to all your texts, maybe forget one or two,
And long-time-coming replies, cause hey, I got plenty of things to do.
We would go more to the beach: I give you a salty kiss with waves at our feet,
Heck with it, I think I would give you alot more kisses than I ever actually did.
Like when I picked you up, and you demanded to be let down,
I think I’d hold you still and twirl you about, ‘fore putting your feet on the ground.
At the restaurant, we’d sit in a corner at a tiny table holding hands,
Yeah, I think that’s what I’d do if I ever got a second chance.
I’d be a bit more mercurial, more mature, a touch colder.
Seems so easy to say, now that I’m older.
I’d cut out my stupid comments, my thoughtless actions, and replace them.
Instead of a boy, you’d get a gentle, respectful man.
I would take you out so much more, to who cares where, a beach, a restaurant, or hill,
Instead of being stuck inside with too much time to kill.
I don’t know if the results would be worse or better,
But if I had a second chance on offer . . .
This poem would be my game plan,
A kiss on your cheek, guarded lips, my hand in your hand.
Change a boy into a hard yet soft man.
Story behind the poem:
Did I tell you all that it’s the National Month for Remembering Past Memories? Oh. Sorry. So for a real behind-the-scenes tour . . . .
This poem is based on my ex, obviously, and well, how I would replay things if there was some magic rewrite button. Every thing mentioned in the poem, the beach, autumn day, etc, all actually happened. Well, ok, the hill we sat on was not much of a hill, but mound didn’t fit the poem as well as hill.
The words for this poem sort of fell in place while in a ‘melancholic’ mood at work, with a few tweaks here and there now that I’ve written it out. Quickly, I’ll explain the last line, hard yet soft man. I believe that men (and women too :D) need to be able to have a balance of soft and hard. Hard-lined stance, but a soft spirit and a soft heart. Soft is not always a weakness. 😀 Sometimes hardness is, and vice versa. 😛