At nine years old
I was either a dreamer
Following Randi’s steps,
I planted my feet
In my friend’s invisible footprints;
The shadow of her being.
Could I transport into her world?
Her golden tendrils become mine?
Her dimpled smile, mine?
Her perfect home, mine?
It couldn’t happen, but
As I climbed her steps
My hand grasped the iron railing
Where her fingers touched
Up to her pink room
Dappled with dancing daisies and rose ribbons,
Everything my room was missing.
I watched her mother part Randi’s hair
Into a straight line
Then gather her waves into bouncy pigtails.
Randi twirled them around like propellers
And they laughed.
Was it strange to love my friend so much
To want to be her mirror image?
Would I follow her
Into her battle with cancer?
Still a dreamer,
Superstitious, and discontent;
Thrust into the rabbit hole of college life;
Until He called me
To follow His steps,
Along the enduring path,
Set straight from His word;
I could transport into His world.
Everything my life was missing.
More than the world,
Radiant from within
Until I reach the mansion he’s prepared.
A perfect home,
Dappled with daisies and ribbons of gold,
Choirs of angels singing tunes of praise and peace.
Is it strange to love my Savior so much?
That I want to be like him?
Could I follow Him in His death?
His steps lead to life.
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