Love, Hope and Borders
On the way home every day, there’s the foolish hope, dim and gray, which clings to me like ice to skin, that you’ll be waitin’ there for me. You’re sittin’ on our porch, weary, yet full of that powerful love in your eyes that has captured my heart once and over again.
There’s a flashback that plays – it’s when I knew you first loved me. We were in the car, and you said, “If ever…I dunno, I have to leave…I will miss you.” Oh, what a beautiful irony.
I picture myself sittin’ in the car, lookin’ at my dream come true, and wonder what my reaction would be – after all these years that we’ve carried out in a love which can only be expressed in words. Oh, that God could tell me if this hope itself, somehow, has a power over our circumstances.
If love were all powerful as they say, then tell me, why do these borders torment us so? I say ice to skin because, just as quickly and often as it comes, this hope is dashed and gone away, every time I see that empty porch when I pull into our driveway.
© 2010 Dana Renee’ Billingsley
Related Music – Listen: 6, 8, 12 by Brian McKnight