I Wanted To Write A Poem Today

I wanted to write a poem today,

words that would transcend the limitations of the page

and rise up to the ears and dance; musical sounds

that would make Julie's hills come alive.

I wanted to write about the man I could be,

a man that had answers rather than questions,

a man that could wear his insecurities proudly on his chest

instead of cloaking them in his shadow,

a man that spoke with far more confidence than me.

I wanted to write about the woman I hope to find,

a woman with smoldering eyes fueled by the fire within,

a woman that walks with the authority of a queen,

with sashaying hips and a throaty voice that dominates my dreams,

a woman whose mere existence captivates the mind.

I wanted to write about the life I want to live,

a life where I am not addicted to melancholy,

a life where every day is a new journey, a new memory,

new memories to relieve the burdens of memories past,

a life where I do not wake up weary of reality.

I wanted to write a poem today,

words that would transcend the limitations of the page

and rise up to the ears and dance; but alas,

I left my pen at home.