Lauren Johnson

Creative Writing
A Painting of Last Hopes
The thick parchment of age-old sails
Waved at me through the icy barrier.
Through time and space, the alluring
Long-nosed beasts of the past beckoned.
An ache. A sting.
I was close enough to feel the caress
Of the breeze blow wisps of my hair into my eyes,
Yet far enough that I could not hear the song
Of a lonely bell hidden in the distance.
The swift, cold feather
Of a sigh passed my throat
In remembrance of crumpled dreams I had long ago
Locked away in a blackened chest.
But, it neednt be that way, I realized.
Though I couldnt pass through the sticky globs
Of acrylic memory behind the dusty glass,
The boarded iron doorway to all I desired would not
Remain closed forever.
I might just slip though the crack
Of my ending fantasies
And sail away with all my dreams.
I wanted- and still want- so badly to meet them.
And, someday, I will.