Clare

There is so much I could say

You, of all people, should know that

And hence, a mere poem is not enough.

Still, it’s a start, and a start is sometimes all one needs to begin something profound.

As I sit writing, I-tunes has aptly decided ‘Strawberry Fields Forever’ ought to be the sound track to my writing

Fitting, due to you and Dean-

Funny how these things work sometimes, I suppose-

I still remember how funny I would find it when you could keep a spoon stuck to your nose

You had it down to an art-

And in the little stair landing of Boomama and Boodaddy’s house, which is now your home, I would fuss with the springy door stopper-

And I would listen, as valiantly as a seven-year-old could, as you would talk about the real adult world that seemed so far away.

Now I am on the brink,

It’s both as terrifying and as exciting as you proclaimed it as!

I always admired, and still do, many things about you-

Things then were your hair, your adventures of going to africa and such, and how genuinely interesting everything you spoke of tended to be.

You seemed vastly bohemian and artistic, which are now things I am undeniably drawn to in my life. 

You still have that intriguing spark that blazes within you- I can see the brightness in your eyes when certain topics materialize in conversation.

It in itself is admirable still, and vastly intriguing!

Now, also, I admire your maternal sweetness- it really is beautiful.

I suppose this is merely a poem, but I hope you know that I am SO happy to have you in my life!