By Naomi Sheldon
Date: 5 March 2000
I'll Think of You
If I'm ever wondering what is love, I'll
think of how much I think of you.
And if I'm ever afraid that I love too
much, too soon, I'll think of you then,
too, though I don't think it could happen
quite like that again.
I'll remember the night I first saw you
when you had to leave with the girl
but came back to say How Can I
Reach You.
I'll think of you on long airplane trips
to sad places, and to happy places-
and when I see mountains, and when
the air smells of spruce.
If anyone ever brings me a book of
poetry, I'll think of you because you did.
And if I ever ride a bike on a dirt road,
up and down hills in the rain, I'll think
of you- riding with one hand, a bottle
of wine in the other.
When I'm aching from the inability to
communicate, I'll think of you and how
much we cared and how deeply we felt
all those times when we seemed
to be strangers.
If I send or receive a telegram, I'll think
of you because when I tapped a
message on your knee, though neither of
us knew the code, you knew it said
I love you.
And when it's late and I'm alone and
about to get some fruit or tea, I'll think
of the night I was hungry and went for
some berries and the phone rang before
I could wash them. It was you, and
after we hung up, I put the berries back
and went to sleep, warm and full.
I'll remember your saying that you
wanted to love and be loved but that
you were afraid. Your voice was lower
and more tired than usual. I don't
think I said a word.
If ever I'm frustrated by bickering, I'll
think of when I trembled for us after
our first argument and you said it was
all right, that we had to experience it in
order to get out of it. And we promised
to talk if it happened again, if we were
sad or afraid. To talk and feel instead
of trying to hide from it and ending
up fighting- longing for love, for
understanding, and fearing the longing.
And if I ever feel bad about talking too
much, I'll remember that you don't
mind, that you understand. When I
need to talk, you talk as much as I
by listening.
When I walk up long narrow stairways,
I'll think of you walking ahead of me
with your arm behind your back,
your hand holding mine, leading me
to your home.
When I'm warm, I'll think of you.
And when it's cold, I'll think of you.
When I'm feeling frightened, I'll
remember your saying Me Too.
If I'm ever sad because I'm not loved,
I'll think of you that night at the
concert saying you were afraid to love
me because it would be so much.
And when I think of how huge the world is,
I'll think of you and know that I exist.
Now when I play my guitar in the
morning, I'll think of you asleep
and smiling.
When I drink Sangria, I'll think of you.
When I drink orange juice, I'll think of
you, toasting To Us at breakfast,
our arms entwined.
I'll think of you when I'm leaving and
have to think of what to say, if
something must be said, so as not to
say Goodbye.
When I have a birthday, I'll think of
you. And when I'm on a picnic.
And if I ever feel that bodies are
awkward and distant, I'll remember
how ours aren't. How with us, touching
is no different from smiling.
Whenever I feel alone and scared, I'll
remember how you in your sleep once
sensed my fear, my inanimate trembling
and sorrow, and you reached for me and
held me, still asleep.
When I hear the word Baby, sometimes
so misused, I'll remember how you
brought me to your chest, your arms
around me, your hand on my head, and
you called me Baby. It was the warmest
thing I had ever heard.
I'll remember that you kissed me
goodnight on my lips gently as falling
asleep. I had wondered if you liked me,
and found out that you loved me.
And when I'm wondering if I'm really
alone, I'll remember that finally I can
be with you and not have to touch you
to know that you are there.
When I'm wondering what I am, I'll
remember the night, lying beside you, I
asked you if you thought I was strange,
and you said no, I wasn't, that I wasn't
at all, and if you touched me then, it
was gentle, and I believed you.
When I wake up in the morning and
don't remember the night or my dreams,
but just feel warm and peaceful and
deep, I'll think of you.
And if I ever think love is futile, I'll
think of you and know that love is all
that matters. Futility is only a guess, a
despair, but love is everything and
worth all the risks.
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