too much too little

I dreamt of a forest and of the

mountain breeze that whistles

through the pine trees and an

apple perched on a branch so

close but out of my hands.

I stretched myself up to grab the

fruit but I wasn't tall enough and

the birds squealed and watched

me struggle and they knew that

I was too little, not enough.

I dreamt of a beach of untouched

sand bleached white by the sun

where footprints vanished and the

sea foamed like a whisper leaving

seashells and secrets in its wake.

I stumbled to the shore to feel the

water on my toes and seaweed on

my skin but I was too heavy, too

large and disturbed the swathe of

white and was too much but not enough.

I dream of her at night and see her in

the morning glow and the hazy sun

of the afternoon as she picks the fruit

and walks on tiptoe towards the shore

graceful and never making too much noise.

She takes my hand and leads me to the sea

grabbing apples as she goes and giggling

when I can't reach or stumble and kick up

sand and for once I am not too much and I am

not too little I am simply enough, enough for her.