Remember those brand new moments
wrapped tightly
in the crisp wintry nights
fastened with the velvety ribbons of city streets
a bright bow of sunrise sitting on top?
They were placed under the tree by someone’s hand
like Christmas gifts, to not be touched yet
They taunted, and drove us crazy
and did not
stand a chance –
we tore the wrapping to shreds
dying to feel them
seize them
keep
them
Someone was telling us to not open the gifts
early
we were too happy to listen
Live for the Love of it,
The Happy Amateur
written for dVerse
