Handwriting by Victoria Ip
Illustrations by Crystal Maisie Lo
September 27, 2016 You draped your dreams in red, It was more than your favourite pigment. It was defiant love That could bridge the gulf Of cynical disillusionment. If you were Midas, You would turn the things you touch Into the blush of fever, Until your universe pulsated with a singular fervour. Suited up in rose red for your curtain call, With your freshly cut autumn-hued hair standing tall, And my diminutive hand in yours, You said, “I would love to see it all.”
September 28, 2016 Like a red leaf that broke free, You left the dock and sailed away. In my time-yellowed book you nestle with glee, There you will have your say. Your story will be told through me, I already sought and found that needle in the hay. Weaving your intricate tapestry, Day by day. Through your soul eyes I will see, Until that fateful day.
January 30, 2017 I don’t know How many more waves it will take for me to crash on your shore, That’s a question for God, who knows. But I promise it will be like warm raspberry jam poured On a perfect slice of toast, Your first memory of a sky painted cornflower blue, A well-travelled sea shell whispering to the coast, “All the songs I carry belong to you.”
September 27, 2016 You draped your dreams in red, It was more than your favourite pigment. It was defiant love That could bridge the gulf Of cynical disillusionment. If you were Midas, You would turn the things you touch Into the blush of fever, Until your universe pulsated with a singular fervour. Suited up in rose red for your curtain call, With your freshly cut autumn-hued hair standing tall, And my diminutive hand in yours, You said, “I would love to see it all.”