Palmtree Contemplations

I’ve made a hundred thousand wishes, None of which have come to pass. But now I see my fatal error: I never built on what would last. All that time I was building my castles On jet streams and shooting stars, The world was turning beneath this canvas, Humming to dull its stinging scars. All those single shooting stars, I saw them, yes, But never realized the larger song, This shimmering dance of light and sound The other stars make all night long. I was blind! So very blind! And deaf to all cares but mine, Until I stopped in the street ‘neath the sky, Stopped and heard the star symphony shine. Quartets of red and white novas, All glittering, sparkling, and sweet, Playing melodies familiar, yet new That echo in the puddles at my feet. There is no discord here, And nothing out of tune, Only endless perfect cadences And the milky whole-note tones of the moon. I lose myself in this brilliant star song, Forgetting all my woes and

People call me a Romantic. Part of it might be because I enjoy taking long walks uphill to watch a sunset. It could also be due to my reading Rupert Brooke's poetry while sipping Earl Grey tea and listening to Chopin. The fact that my close friends call me The Disney Princess doesn't help my status. Neither does my sentimental habit of saving every memorable card, text, facebook message, and letter I have received since first grade in a great big red bin, complete with an organized tagging and bagging system. Perhaps I should also mention that sometimes, near midnight when the streets are quiet, I sneak down to the local library's garden plot and then walk home in the moonlight with my arms full of flowers.  It's plain to see why people are so quick to slap the Romantic label on me. I have a friend who never ceases to point out my romantic nature. I could be sighing about how terrible my day has been, or express frustration about life choices that need to be made,