Picking Dandelions

There's something comforting
About sleeping in your bed, lovely,
Even if it is empty.
There's something about
Burying my face in these pillows
That barely smell like you anymore;
A kind of musky, outdoors smell
- hidden deep beneath the sweet tang
Of laundry detergent -
That reminds me of swing sets
And teeter-totters
And dandelions.

There's something comforting
About curling up in the hollows
You left behind in these box springs.
There's a strange, almost magical,
Warmth woven into these blankets;
A warmth that seeps through
My iceberg bones
And somehow manages to fill
The gaping holes in my composure.
It may not be much:
Frayed cotton drawn around
Frail shoulders,
But it is enough
To remind me of your arms
Tight around me.

I lay here, remembering all these
Memories, dearest,
And it makes me feel somehow
Emptier, even as they fill me up.
I remember everything:
Playing tag, chasing bees,
Our ploys to save endangered cheetahs.
Every moment of our childhood
Comes back to me in this one
Lucid moment of nostalgia.
I remember the songs we sang
As we jump-roped with a chair
As our third;
I remember those forts we made
With pillows and blankets stretched across
The table,
Our tiny feet sticking out either end,
Our heads together,
Our giggles masking every other sound
In the universe.

I remember the endless days of summer
In which we'd build Lego castles
Or ride our bikes in hazardous circles;
Searching for buried treasure
In dad's flower beds,
Pooling our findings:
Broken shoelaces
And chipped marbles,
Old malleable pieces of metal
And twisted, dirty plastic soldiers.
No one saw the beauty
In our precious treasures,
And they still don't.
I dug up half a chess piece
At the beach this summer
- I walked alone down the sandbar
And wished you were splashing along
Beside me.
I showed the cracked horse's head
To mom, but she just smiled and looked away;
I wished you were there with me
Because I know you would have seen the
Hidden value
- you always knew how to see
Extraordinary things in ordinary objects.

You could always draw the simplest things
And make them seem abstract and brilliant.
Remember when we'd lay out on our bellies,
A pile of chalk at our side,
And doodle under the baking sun?
I can't count the number of times
I would glance over from my
Lopsided rainbow
Or dancing stick figure
And see your masterpiece
Blossoming out around you
And trickling beneath your elbows.
I can't remember how many times
I would stand over your creation,
Hands on hips,
Fingers a myriad of colour,
And wish that  I could draw like you
- even then I was in awe of you, lovely;
I was in awe of your talent and the simple grace
With which you scribbled your Picasso.
I'm still in awe of you, dear;
I'm still amazed that I know this wonderful,
Amazing person
- so why can't you see the beauty too?

You think you're worthless
Or unwanted,
But I swear to you that I will always
Want you
- I will always need you -
And you will always be worth while
To me.
You were always there for me;
When I fell and scraped open my palms,
When those kids at school bullied me,
When dad turned into a scary, mean
Man and I didn't understand
- I know now that it wasn't dad,
It was the alcohol clogging his bloodstream.
All those times you kissed it better,
All those times you stroked my hair
And wiped away the tears
And said "It's okay".
All those times when I was beyond comfort
And you wrapped your arms around me
And just let me cry.

You were always there for me,
Even in the deep of night
When I appeared in your doorway
- a frightened silhouette -
And whimpered about ghosts
And shadows
And the things hiding in the darkness.
I remember all the times you sighed,
But nodded and let me slither into bed next you;
All those nights that I kept you awake
Chattering on about my silly nightmares,
Whittling away those precious hours
You had left to sleep.
Most of all, though,
I remember all those nights
That I slipped in between you and the wall
And whispered softly
"Can I stay?"
I remember the dreaded silence before your
Sighed consent;
How you'd roll your eyes, but you'd
Reach over and tuck the blankets tighter
Around me,
How you'd let me worm my way
Into the circle of warmth inside your arms.
I remember how easy it was
To forget all the nightmares and dancing shadows;
How easy it was
To drift into a deep sleep,
Feeling safe tucked away beside you.

Now you're gone.
Now this bed holds only
Near-forgotten memories
And a faint outline
Of where you used to lay.
The blankets are frayed, yes,
And the walls are blank
Except for a picture of
Two little girls dancing in the rain.
It may not be much
- this little reminder of who we were -
But it is enough
To comfort me
On this long trek through the night
When my bed just seems too empty.
It is enough
To think of all these things, lovely;
To remember every sweet, funny
Childhood moment.

In truth,
I don't really know why
I'm writing this right now, sweetheart;
Just to tell you
I love you, I guess.
Maybe it's just a flash
Of midnight inspiration,
I don't know.
I suppose I just wanted
To remind you of all these things
- even if you never read this -
So that when I ask you:
"Please, dear, can we be kids again?"
You'll understand what I mean.

So that when I come to you,
My eyes streaming,
My heart beyond comfort,
You'll remember that all I need
Is a hug.

So that I can ask you
For just one moment;
So I can ask you to pick dandelions
With me again.
So I can ask you to stand next to me,
Our feet dug deep into the cool sod,
and you'll nod and say yes.

So that I can ask you to, please,
pick one more dandelion;
So that I can ask you to
Just take one more deep breath
And let it go:
Scattering those sunlight seeds
Across the world.