To the Dreamers

To the dreamers, you were my pail;

you caught the rain I needed and

held it up to my cracked lips

as I drank the world entire.

You were my bookshelf; you held

words and ideas up on a pedestal

of shaky boards and nails and dared

me to ask about the lives stacked

highest. You were my wonder,

the light bulb in the attic I was too

small to reach, you gave me a ladder,

held my arm as I climbed, so that if I fell,

it was only ever into the arms of a romantic,

teaching me that love is more an act of

catching than embracing. You were the

walls around my mind; you let me grow,

let yourselves be knocked down when I

was strong enough to realize there were

doors behind you. You were my witness,

holding me in your lap telling stories until

I was old enough to become one myself.

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7 thoughts on “To the Dreamers

  1. This is very meta, Natalie. We stand on the shoulders of giants. I especially love this:
    “…teaching me that love is more an act of
    catching than embracing.”

Thoughts? I love those.

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