I’ll tell you the stories of
your babyhood,
make them more mythic every time,
sneak a peak at you
in the rearview
in moments of synchronized laughter.
We set out before daybreak
to forge your spirit
with ice and fire,
to consecrate you in
an honorable quest,
your heart’s tongue thirsting for glory.
It’s all blades and boots
amidst the yawns and
waning stars and Starbucks. I wonder
what I missed in this morning’s dreams, and
we’ll never get it perfect;
that’s what makes it perfect.
For now it’s you in the rearview
and all of this life is still
I love you.
10/19/04
