"Poetry is thoughts that breathe, and words that burn." ~Thomas Gray
"Poetry unites." ~Anon
"Truth is such a rare thing, it is delightful to tell it." ~Emily Dickinson
Written by Faith P.
She lives in Vermont, USA
Her blog: Stones From My Heart
Originally posted on Every Photo Tells A Story
for the image prompt shown here.
It was Reeses peanut butter cups
and root beer in Central park
until we were sick and so high on sugar
the old metal swings seemed like an amusement ride.
And walking down the street
in the evening. Me first walking you
home and then you walking me home...
Until the night fell and we had to say
goodbye midway between.
And Peter Frampton playing too loudly.
Thinking that we were in love somehow
with those boys at school. Singing and crying
together as though that alone could make them
love us back and then laughing until it didn't matter.
Phone call after phone call.
This is what it meant to be 13.
Smoking at Burger King.
Drinking coffee we didn't like.
Trying on these roles.
The dance on the windowsill 12 stories high.
Finding the fine line of hysteria within
and pulling each other back to safety.
Do you remember? I have lost you after all
these years. You could be anyone walking
down a busy street. You could be anywhere
I have gone, just moments ahead.
If I stop at the corner 112th street and Broadway.
If I stop there and start to sing and kick up
my legs like a Rockette would you find me there?
Put your arm over my shoulder and sing with me
"I'm looking over a four leaf clover..."
Like we used to, just for a laugh and maybe
a quarter or two for a slice of pizza.
After all these years, would we still dare?
I miss you.
Posted with consent of the writer.
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