The Little Girl Dreams Big

The Little Girl Dreams Big

by: Steven S. Press

I used to watch the elderly couple hold hands at the park.  They’d kiss and they’d snuggle from afternoon until dark.

And when it was time to go home for the night, her eyes would meet his under the brilliant moonlight. 

I’d watch the boy chase the girl and he’d present to her a rose, and she’d respond to his gesture with a punch to the nose.

I laughed as she giggled and turned to run away, he was hot on her heels and eager to play.

These are the things that define beauty for me, their love and innocence seem so delicately free.

I can’t help but think of my son as he aged, and I cherish every memory with each passing day.

My boy is my world, he’s my strength, he’s my rock, and I’d give him the world, even turn back the clock...

To read him another story or take a walk by the lake, and we’d sing one more song for killing time’s sake.

I’ve been through rough patches, lost all that I’ve owned, had an affair with the bottle and struck out on my own.

I’d think about my son and all the time that we’d spend, and I’d pray to the Lord that this would come to an end.

I worked my way back and made a life for myself, with my dog and my cats as I’ve been nursed back to health.

As I look out the window of this quaint little shack, I can’t help but smile as I start to unpack...

All the dreams and desires my mind bore as a girl, as I’d run from the boy who simply wanted to whirl.

I know that he’s out there, I might accept that red rose, and walk down the aisle in white as the story it goes.

Until that day I am happy, I’m free, and I’ll live life to the fullest until I cease to be.