Promise to the girl I was

Bebé caminando
   One day very soon
you will no longer be the slivers
of other people's dreams,
footsteps on the wet
   I promise you this.
   You, will be.
Oh, your adventures!
Colossus of Rhodes
with one foot firm on land
and the other sea spray on tippy toes. 
   You will come to the rebel cliffs,
whipped heartbeats of itinerant circus, 
incandescent in spite
of belly-flared and pointed
   You will be
all the kisses,
the winged, the given, and the planned,
and each time it will hurt less.
   You will have
salt and foam tears
in the dark caldera,
poems like arrows, 
lit in neon.
   You will bury them all,
except the last fear,
the littlest and still,
which visits when the moon
is new and alone.
   And even so,
wow, the adventures you will have,
a concentric circle
of love and gold,
sharp like Northern tongues,
and the wind in your face. 
   Lucky shot.
   You deserve a heaven,
and not for anything.
   When the fog dissipates
in the pinewood summit,
you will see:
   future indicative
you will be.

By Sam C

I’m a railway signalling project manager and a part time writer and photographer, originally from the Canary Islands and now adopted by the United Kingdom. I’m also studying at the university of Warwick a Part-time MSc in Programme & Project Management.

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