Give me a word

He had his own way with words.

Twisted, sweetened with honey,

He would deliver them to people.

Combining them with pen and paper,

He would let the words flow out like an aged river.

He built paths, men and women:  old and young.

The skies were tinted blue, serene as lazy clouds grazed them peacefully.   

His emotions peaked; he would evoke a storm in the quiet skies.   

The second world he built was much different than the one he lived in.

A place he could leave his hair long, with no hunger, no sleep to bother him.

Six seasons flavored the biosphere, kids always smiled.

He spent more and more time in building fantasies, avoiding the real domain.

He laughed, he mused and he fell in love.

Unlikely, no?

With one of the women he created in his mind.

They met under the sun kissed trees, waiting the rise of new dusk.

They lay forever awake, without a care.

He had requested her, “Give me a word.”

She had picked her lips, beaming at him.

“It might not be good.”

“Just give me one.”

“Ok, give me some time.”

She had left him waiting.

Months passed, he waited by the same place.

Clouds flew by; she never gave him the word.

He waited, rustling his bones, wearing off his mind in thinking.

Had he offended her?

Not in the least.

He started doubting himself.

Crestfallen, he turned to face the reality.

The small cubicle of a room welcomed him.

Layers of dust and paper piles greeted him.

His reflection disgusted him.

He dared not to venture out.

So he went back to the world he created.

The kids no longer sang melodies,

The elderly no longer wore a smug smile,

The skies were painted an angry red with sashes of grey.

The girl he loved was in the arms of his own creation- the hero.

Looking closely, he realized,

The hero was a reflection of his younger self.

Much younger and happy than he could ever be.

The girl had leaned onto the man’s shoulder.

She had whispered,

“Give me a word.”

The man could only smile.  

21.04.2017

Alexander Lee