Mr. D*

Me and Mr. D have been going 'round since I was six.
I offered him a dance but he refused,
Telling me I was too young to follow his steps,
But I heard the music and knew how to move my feet.
When I was ten years older I asked him for a kiss.
He told me I was too young to kiss him
The way he should be kissed
And life had more to teach me
Before he would give me what I asked,
But I knew how our lips should touch
And what sweetness would follow.
Busy as he is,
Mr D follows me everywhere, watching me live
With a tiny smile quirking his lips
And a bemused expression on his face
But he doesn't like it that I see him
So he ducks behind trees and trucks
And tornadoes and blizzards
And wars
And other obstructions, thinking I won't know
That he wants the same damned thing I do
But neither of us can have it.
Not yet.
Sometimes we talk long talks.
He gets lonely, and bored, and usually
Usually when people notice him
They aren't in talking moods.
He says there are some like me, who have known
For a very long time
And we're puzzles to him,
Us fearless souls who look him in the eye unblinking
Unflinching,
Inviting.
Me and Mr. D are old, old friends.
He always sends his love on my birthday
Because irony.
Long before I understood what a lover was,
I knew he would be mine.
And he will be.
Eventually.




*I was at an event last week and Grandmother Elspeth was across from me, vending Nybor prints.  The below was one of them, and as soon as I saw it I knew I had to have it.  We made a trade for it.  I love it.  I'm torn as to where to hang it - likely it will go somewhere near the altar until I either make a memorial altar or decide I want it in my room to look at.  It reminds me to be patient, reminds me of...things...

y.