Poem: Wherever You Are

Poem: Wherever You Are

To my beloved to be, I-

(Hmm, no, too fancy shmancy.

Crumple, toss.)

Greetings, future husband, I-

(Nah, that’s no good.

Crumple, toss — ah, whoops — re-toss.)

To my prince in shining armour:

(PERFECT!)

I know we haven’t met yet, ’cause

you’re off in some foreign land, like

Italy or France or

Hollywood or

someplace

growin’ up all cultured and

reading Shakespeare for fun in a cute accent that

will make my name sound majestic when-

ever we meet, and

you’re probably really busy because

grade 8 is a lot of work,

I hear,

and of course you’re 3 years older ’cause

that’s the perfect age gap

according to Seventeen Magazine the experts, but

I just wanted to say

hello.

I think about you a lot sometimes,

y’know,

when I’m sitting in class or

alone on the bus or

trying on Mum’s pearls that’ll look divine

with my wedding dress.

I wonder what your favourite animal is and

what you dream about and

what you’ll order on our first date

(to Baskin Robbins, if you don’t mind, it’s

kinda my favourite place)

and whether you ever wonder

about me.

Just some days I question if

you’re really there:

a living, breathing boy somewhere

in the world instead of

some puff of my imagination when

I’m picked last in gym class and

my strapless dress won’t stay up and

my desk is empty each year when

they come to deliver valentines.

So, I guess if I’m shy at first to

hold your hand or

read you my poems

it’s not because I don’t love you, just that

it’s hard to believe in dreams coming true

when most of my shooting stars

turn out to be

airplanes

in the night.

 

Ariella is in her first year at the University of Guelph, majoring in Psychology. She has been writing her whole life and can’t wait to see where it takes her!

Photo courtesy of Pawel Furman via CC0

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