if only i could find a way

to charge through this tunnel

full of hazy fog that clouds

my vision for miles.

but i can only drag my feet

across the blackened concrete etched

with years of children’s chalk

made for their naive games

of ‘jump the creek’ and ‘hop-scotch.’

if only i could find a way

to pour myself into the river

that builds the hope of people,

but endures tides that push and pull

me further and further away.

and yet, i can only trickle

between the rough, carved rocks

that hold too much of the past

for my decisive liking and dream

of a bitter-sweet future.

if only i could find a way

to sway in the twisted and gnarled

branches of old oak trees that

hold creatures meant for creeping

and blending into the darkened night.

but i can only linger and wonder

about the light that lies in reality,

which seems to be miles away

from where I currently reside,

writing to you about what i wish

i could do or say or think.

if only.