Mother Superior's protective gaze, and me, nervously striving for perfection and acceptance,
mesmerized by that perfectly chiseled, alabaster work of art, which was her face.
So many daydreams.
Exotic pine desks with notebooks still virginal, awaiting their first pen stroke.
Fairytale palaces lined with hammered gold walls.
Fragrant earth and Indian orange desert skies accompanied by a sensual Autumn moon.
Ancient Stone ruins draped by the concealed optimism of buried civilizations.
The eternal sounds of murmuring rain carving their faces upon the patient adobe huts that lay along their path.
Whispering ripples of a fertile mountain spring.
The vengeful rustling of golden leaves being caressed by a crisp November wind.
The soft silence of your gentle breathing in tune to the symphony of windshaken trees outside our windows.
The silken feel of your flesh beneath my fingers as I become your sculptor, kneeling beneath the altar of your temple.
Your sparkling eyes peering warily, mischievously, joyfully, innocently, from the space you conceal behind your heart.
Duststorms and thunderstorms looming menacingly in the horizon,
whilst all of heaven's creatures and silent beings take cover beneath the tattered and mended blanket we call night.
Pigeons cooing lustily from ancient churchbell steeples.
Sparrows noisily crowding into the brushy fronds of the palm's safe embrace.
Garden swallows hurriedly creating a safe refuge for their fragile offspring.
Woman still sweeping her sidewalk in a determined ritual.
Mahogany flesh, with dark, bronzed Aztec features.
Gentle eyes, soft demeanor, beautifully simple and perfect like a ripe fig on a hungry afternoon.
I imagine me in my childlike manner in love for the first time.
Imagining in my adolescent heart, passionate embraces, and gentle loving acceptance.
My magical orchards replete with fruit ladened trees. and ripening dreams.
My childhood, my Aladdin's lamp,
my world, never to be the same again.