Poetry Write-In: History

Is it deaths door that feels so peaceful
Or is it the want of a great upheaval
I need movement and change in my life
Not something small or swift like a knife

I sit alone with my dreams in hand
Hoping and praying for my promised land
I wish that she would come to me
So she could join my whole world and see

Finger to finger, palm to palm,
A journey not spent alone would be so calm
With each rock we climb, each summit surpassed,
It grow and grows, my love amassed

I speak to her with such softness
My body freezes up in a tautness
The words come flying like a dove
The words I spoke proclaim my love

I took her hand and kissed it too
Is this what I need to feel brand new?
Is she the change in my life,
My sweet, my sweet, my future wife

I take her to my favorite places
To prolong my time within her graces
Showing her the memories of my ages
Opening my history and turning pages

As we flip through this book
In her eyes I cannot look
I do not know what she’ll think
As we approach the nearing brink

I fear she will run right after
We turn our eyes to the final chapter
Her eyes glide across the paper as she reads
Into my anxiety this moment feeds

She closes the book as I shudder
The thoughts in my mind begin to flutter
Her silent gaze upon my face
It pains me so that I begin to brace

She turns and looks away
To ignore my great dismay
She walks in a slow pace
Returning my history to the bookcase

In that moment, time it sits, it seems to freeze
Still my heart, it begs, it pleas
She turns again, I see her eyes
She weeps, she pities my demise

She begins to read again
Her only memory, ink and pen
Her eyes cross the page with a scan
Hoping to embark, as if the journey just began

Even if she loves me most,
I am nothing but a ghost