I keep opening the door
Imagining what could be
I see him playing on the floor
Pretending to sail out to sea
It is an odd ache
To hope and plan so openly
When all it would take
Is an “it’s not meant to be”
But there are waves I can’t control
I adjust the sails, grip my oar
Pray my hopes and plans miss the shoal
And make it safely to the shore
With Love,
Natalie