Too late....for love

It found me…but is it too late.

It was never meant to happen. Not the words, nor the moments tilting our heads with the music. This simple game was supposed to pass the time for me and yet it became so much more. I dreamt of things as these which filled my time with wonder. i dreamt of things as these which would captivate my soul.
While in my room, just fresh from puberty, I would wonder about such fictional love. My brain would entertain the silly notions of true admiration. Oh, how I would use the hours to draw silly pictures and write silly ditties under the influence of some brandy stole from my brothers stash. I wanted lots of things on those lonely nights. I wanted to be an artist, I wanted to have freedom that I never knew before…and most of all I wanted to know that thing they called love. Love was a myth, they say–oh , love wasn’t real. They told jokes, all those elders of mine, about how love had made a fool of some poor old idiot once again. Love was devious, they said and love was the craftiest trickster. But I wanted to know him. I wanted his breath upon my cheek. Who cared what the old ones said.
I would sneak past my father’s room and sit vigil with the night, hoping I would see love pass by me. The stars watched silently as I read my poems aloud to them. One by one they winked and slowed their love for me. But, it wasn’t eough. I climbed back into my bed and exhaled the longest breath on those nights and was determined that I would meet love in my dreams. But those silly little nightmares would wear  loves mask and pretend to woo me into the night. I might awake with a moist pillow and a silly Little giggle but love was nowhere to be found.
It was never meant to happen…but love found me. But I had already lost hope in love.