We two are always moving
and yet never going
anywhere.
This is the truth.
If you were honest
you would own
that the time for missing
our childhood is gone.
But you are stuck
in by- gone times
of hot summer nights,
white wine, and glassy
eyes.
You think of yourself as
the matriarch
of stolen youth.
But the past you yearn for,
in truth
never was.
The heat only peeled
off our skin. The rules
were stricter
outside the classroom.
And each boy came and
ate you up
like a hungry wolf.
The flowers in that field
never aged,
only hid away
and came undone.
That is what I
see when I think of you.
Lolloping about, one
foot on the ground,
two hands in the
air like a pair of
stars wanting to go home.
I don’t long to be
fifteen forever, like you.
I can’t sit still
when the suns too
close like an eye
and the wind goes away.
I like the winter. You do not.
But I dreamt of a place
once, with fields of snow drops,
your hair in my hands,
and our hearts evergreen.