Promises Built On Hope

I once was content with my vows.
Declarations by a hand reaching high,
Out towards a sky, blue not of dismay.
Neither mundane.
Just light azure, stretching on and on.
It would roll and tumble, way past the horizon.
Look to the ends, and I’d promise,
Those aren’t ends, just the smudging at the canvas edges.
I must warn you though,
Of a bunny rabbit here, a raging Zeus there.
I believe I have warned you…one time too many.

Now you’ve grown up, I’ve grown up,
We’ve…uhm…never mind.
You can see the big picture now, from the eyes,
Of that whimpering puppy; fallen into the gutter.
The canvas’ just a snippet, a window,
In Buddy Holly’s “It Doesn’t Matter Anymore”.

I’ve lied to you, I’ve lied to myself.
I’ve flown balloons,
Filling them up each night with the same ‘high hopes’.
Often these invade and stain the white tiled ceiling;
Truth, reality.
Love is nothing more,
Than that little abstruse element,
That lets colour-blinds sometimes tell red from green.
Despite the existence of neither to them in reality.

But as the ignorance fades,
So does the bliss.
And the hand that once reached towards that blue sky,
Now shudders and trembles.
Doubtful and uncertain,
In a world of concrete structures and square-cut roads,
Return to safety naïve one.
Return home, to the pockets of that 8-year-old’s jeans.