You Still Float into my Mind

When I was a child, a teenage boy constantly  strolled through my dreams.
His hair was shaggy and blonde.
His arms were thin and his muscles were lacking.
His face was dirty and his fingernails had not been trimmed.

But he was kind.
He knew how to string together words to make me feel whole. To tie up all of my loose parts.
He spoke in sweet tones to me as we drifted through zen gardens
and over streams
and around willow trees.
And for the rest of my preteen years I would sit and wonder what it meant to have someone like that near
and if it were possible to be as comfortable around a person as I was in my dreams with him.

Someday he will float in on the wind and I will spend a quiet afternoon whispering my thoughts into the air and letting him catch them in his breath.
After we are done breathing life into the other, we will part.
He will dissolve into the mist of my subconscious and I will finally know what it means to truly be adored.