This Certainly Missed Connection.

Who
you
thought
I was,
I am
not.
Who
you
think
I am
I will
not be:








Oh so good it is to be like that one wisp of air
drawn across your lips so fleeting it isn't fair.
Just this one moment to be striding in your eyes,
at this age it has to be easy to sympathize.
Like a thin sheet of ice on river bend,
my exterior can be torn thin, set to rend.
I have a tenderness inside of me like small animal,
looking bleary eyed with hopes to run but crawl.
crawl, sprawl, it's all that my sensitivity can muster,
after all, this is a blizzard it survives, a bluster.
Coldness at every turn keeps it to its knees,
at times it lies down, but springs and careens.
When instead of my lips longing to be the gust of wind,
they are actually making connection with your grin.
That longing little creature keeping me alive,
makes plans for the future to strive.

A lost little thing written for you two winters ago. When I was first introduced to your smile.