blue bowls

i tried to sit down and write about my heart

but nothing new came to mind

i thought i’d maybe write about my day

but nothing happened poetically

charles lindburgh’s wife once wrote

him a letter before they were married

and told him about the blue bowls

she’d bought for their new home

i read it in composition class

five years ago in the autumn

i wish i remembered it better

i bought a bowl the other day

for our eventual house of dreams

it is very simple and handmade

but it captured and held my fancy

on the outside it is blue

the blue of icy mint cough drops

with a grey unglazed base

inside it is chalk white and thick

it reminds me oddly of a whale

so i named it moby dick

i wonder about you sometimes

what you look like, how we’ll meet

i won’t wear shoes to be married

i don’t know if i like diamonds

they always seem harsh and cold

pearls are tears, but warm ones

like the happy ones shining

on sunkissed summer cheeks

sometimes i feel you in dreams

you stand behind me, protecting

while our children play beside us

i can’t see you clearly yet

but i know one day i will

will you let me give them names

like forrest lily or poppy

or ellery or ian or eiddon?

the future is every second

just before this one clicks by

i’m learning to wait patiently

to smile at the future

and laugh at things to come

when He tells you it’s time

i won’t be scared anymore

maturing is not optional

i have come to realize

so this is the newness

i’ve found in my heart

and here is the poetry

in the everyday routine

with what will we fill our blue bowl?