imagine

And she wants to

watch the sun rise over the gurgling river and still be there when it slowly sets behind the mountain range and lift her gaze toward the skies and move her head with the clouds up above and sigh as if her heart was a hot and melting iceberg

and come home eventually after a long day of searching and drink hot milk with honey and bake a cake and dip the crumbs into the steaming glory and linger there at the table for a very long time

and feel a little lonely and anonymous and known and seen at the very same time and hear the doorbell and kiss you hello and all your friends as well and the families and invite always and always accept invitations and set the table and keep the beds made for strangers who knock in the middle of the night and need someone to come home to

and read her favorite book long into the night with the flashlight under the covers and sometimes stay up all night and talk all night and drink martinis on the rocks or be completely quiet and just intertwine her bare feet with yours on the old red sofa and hold your hand falling asleep and wake up in the same position

and wake up early and make the waking superb and jump out of the bed or stay just a few more minutes enwrapped by your warmth and dream boldly and say it out loud too and greet the day with coffee and the news and leave the house with a smile and a wave for the neighbours

and run but never walk and dance but never stand and never ever sleep too long but enjoy the moment the eyes close for your kiss

and not apologize just because she’s in it with all her heart her foolish heart and just because she falls hard and flies high so high sometimes both at the very same time and just because harmlessness has never been appealing to her oh no

and not know never know really and do it anyway and do it all the way with all the commitment she can bear and do it all at least once so she doesn’t make acquaintance with old uncle regret because he’s grumpy all the time

and feel the tight grip of time and the pulls of memory and the pushes of hope and feel a little lost and a lot torn in all of it

and surrender to your pushes and your pulls when you dance together and ask you to dance a million times before dawn and dance to music that no one but her can hear and make up the lyrics as she goes

and get hurt and burnt and have her heart broken and feel what healing feels like and how long it takes just to get a better sense of time because otherwise it just runs through her fingers and down the drain into the harbor and into the ocean of eternity that is too deep for her to swim in

and hold her breath under water for a long time and then open her eyes and try to talk just to see what words do when they leave her mouth and if they float the way they do when you tell her you love her

and then step out of the water and soak up the sun and squint up into the bluest firmament then look down at her naked toes in the grass and count to ten before taking another breath and loving it all out and then sing because that’s what voices are made for aside from teaching how to read

and then find that first gray hair that’s silver-lined with wisdom, wit, and wonder.

and then stop in the midst of it all

and look out of the mirror and into the world

and see it for the very first time with wonder and awe and that unbridled sense of joy

and make a step toward it and welcome it with the open arms of a clumsy little child and with trembling fingertips

and ask a million questions and give answers that are at odds with one another just to cause a riot and believe in something and start a revolution

and have it all and do it all and be it all and maybe even lose it all.

Because death won’t knock,

will it.