Snowdrops

 

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.

 

 

 

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