Seasons

Call me, you said. I will, I replied. Take me away from this incessant noise, you asked. I will, I promised. Sing to me softly at midnight, a lullaby of hope, something to look forward, you requested. I certainly will honour your wishes, I echoed. Be real once in a while, unplugged, grounded in the here and now, you demanded. I cannot refuse such an order, I said.

Flesh and bones we are made off; forget social networks for a moment, embrace me gently, softly, and tell me a story, I heard you saying. Of course, I shall, I replied. Look, the rain’s gone; it’s a clear sky; I can see the mountains, the forest, a winding river that nurture us all; take me there! Naturally beloved one, consider it done, I murmured.

I have been waiting for you for too long; please, don’t disappear in the business of our routines, you pleaded. I heard you, I shall be visible, you can count on it, I said joyfully. Let this time be our season, hold my hand, shall we dance? You inquired. I’ll be waiting for you at the edge of the midnight love; dance? We certainly will, playfully, enamoured with the living, I added. Let me hear your voice again, in any language. Call me, soon …

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© Leo Campos Aldunez

Edmonton, AB (Canada)