Tagged

The Dream

"How can he do this
to me,
does he not
love me anymore?"
her voice cried
over the phone.
It's been more than
a year
since I saw
her last,
and I had believed
she was happy
with a ring
and a song.
"He does love you,
but not himself enough."
Her eyes were moist,
I couldn't see her
on a telephone line,
but I knew.
"How do you know that?"
"I know that baby,
because time teaches
everything."
I wanted to tell her,
she'll go on,
soon she'll forget
the pain and the hurt,
she won't hate the man
she loved once so,
but still remember
what love felt like.
I wanted to tell her,
I wasn't as strong
as I sounded,
but it's not strength
that matters,
it's tolerance
and forgiving.
I wanted to tell her,
how lovely she was,
I wanted to tell her,
that tomorrow
the anger will fade away,
and poetic justice prevail.
But she wasn't ready,
the broken bird
wasn't ready
to lick her wounds
and fly away,
so I soothed her wings
a little longer,
and reminded her,
of the sky
and the clouds,
and the change
in the tone of her voice
made me realise,
she was still alive,
not asleep,
and ready
for day-dreaming
again.