You came to me for help,
Believing I was safe.
I haven't yet managed to say no to you.
I found myself carrying my back pack though tired,
Wearing a sweater in the July heat,
And you with a fistful of balloons and a camera.
We walked down a path past your house to the trees,
I pet your dogs, said hi to your mom, and stared at your life
[so eerily similar to mine]
You had told me your secret
Your sister was dead
[she had been for years]
She was killed in a car crash
You didn't say the rest, but I saw.
there was a hole in your heart.
We stood under a treehouse
[one you never used]
And I dreamed of far fetched things while you stood me on chairs,
Cut me in half with picture frames,
Let me fly, fall, and run
For an hour afterwards we sat in your kitchen, with a giant puppy and four small dogs.
I was glad to see you smile, because it was not forced.
I'm sorry I always feel the need to talk to you,
I just want to make sure you understand how appreciated you are.
We love you
[i know I do, at least]
And the more we talk the more similar we are.
I want you to know, photographer,
That you are extraordinary.
