It’s something like a nightmare when I watch you step out
Into the crowded streets and heated cars,
Without my hand holding you steady over the tightrope.
Yet, somehow, you always seem to find the balance
That cascade onto the people you meet,
And inspire them to walk that tightrope after you.
While my motivation was a deer caught in headlights,
Yours remained fascicle and beautiful,
Like the wrinkle of your nose when you smile,
or the brown of your eyes.
You’ve learned life is made of stepping stones
That will make the fruit of that one incentive taste sweeter in the end.
When your voice cracks on Broadway,
Or when you get rejected all in all,
I want the stepping stone of this moment
To become a concrete platform,
With rose bushes blooming in the sunset,
or white waves crashing along a sandy beach.
A young man stands
Offering everything he is, has, and wants to be
For a three letter reply
From a girl whose taught him that life’s stepping stones,
Should be embraced and cherished before they crumble to dust.
© Copyright 2016 Mackenzie James. All rights reserved.
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