Saturday, March 9, 2013

If You, If I


 My mate got up at 5:30 this morning because Pepe the cat was whining for his breakfast.  When the two of them went downstairs I yawned and stretched out and snuggled back up under the covers.  Ahhhh, I have the whole bed to myself, I thought.
IF YOU, IF I

If you were not here, I could have the whole bed to myself.
(But then there'd be no one to keep me warm these long cold snowy nights.)

If I were not here, you could have the whole bed to yourself
(until the cats come and claim the extra space.)

If you were not here, I'd have no one to fix my computer,
listen to my stories, eat dinner with,  hug me and
make me feel everything will always forever be okay.
If I were not here, you'd probably never eat another vegetable again and
live on peanut butter sandwiches and ice cream and chips
or rice-and-pasta, rice-and-pasta, rice-and-pasta, rice-and-pasta,
and gain 50 pounds.

If you were not here, I'd feel as if a big part of me'd gone missing.
The emptiness would scream out
the absence of You.
If I were not here, I think you'd miss me too.

If you were not here, I would remember your touch and your laugh and your kindness
and always save the last dance for you (even though you don't dance). 
If I were not here you might be lost for a time but the universe will see to it that
you're not alone for too long.  After all, it brought us together,  right?
Two ships in the night that otherwise might not have crossed paths.

And if we both were not here -
       who would feed the cats!?