Lucid Dreaming: Navy Blue

Happiest Birthday to my Ben. Little did I know, 9 years ago, that I'd found a rare friend, deep and true blue. 

You catch my falls, keep my feet on the ground, and damn it you make me smile daily. For this, you are the very best around, and I am lucky to spend yet another year with you. 

This one's for you: 

 

It's navy blue outside. Not quite night but almost.

Around us, lights flicker on, burn long, wink off.

Cars pulse past, steady intervals of air, of speed, enough to remind us that we're not alone, that the lights don't only dance on and off for us. 

You keep your steps with mine. They're too short for your stride, you pretend not to mind, and you busy yourself looking for cracks, uneven pavement. "Dear," you warn, but it's too late. 

Toe catches, arms fly, a sharp breath in, and a quick loud laugh as balance regains. 

You shake your head, find my hand mid-step. "One of these days," you say, but I'll never learn. Hand in hand we know there's risk that I'll pull us both down, a careless fall, another shoe scuffed. But it's your hand, we know, that keeps me steady, so we'll walk like this for a while through the city, navy blue.