Sublime

Sunday nights I have to work, but I got home in time
To take a walk through misty moods to somewhere called sublime.
I place my hand upon a heart I carved in to a tree.
There’s someone I don’t know inside, but one of them is me.

I’ll need to take my knife again and try to change a part
Of what I put inside here- but the names stay in the heart.
If someone were to look at this they’d think of love with two,
But one just loved the other one; I want to make it true .

I look at the initials with a plus sign carved between.
The sum of us together- what I wish that it could mean.
With my initials first I add I love plus I adore
The one great dream who holds my heart, and whom I carved this for.

I’ll never see this place again; it brings me too much pain.
I’ve left the mark of memories that always will remain.
The past I know will haunt me but I’m ready if and when,
To learn the lesson of it all- and never dream again.

John H. Bidwell