I drove down
Watson Lane
the other night
to see you
and thought about
how much I've
changed
since I used to
come home from school and
come down that road
and watch the sun set
and the cows
along the fence.
Lying in your arms,
not wanting to leave
hoping to memorize the scent of you,
and it makes me
giddy.
I've been ruined
so many times
before
that your hands resting on mine
so calm and homey
surely
must not be real.
How surreal
to know this
fondness that has grown
in me,
has also grown in
you.
I am not allowing myself
too much
hope,
just in case.
Maybe that's not
right.
But I'm so scared.
And yet,
the butterflies
fly at
night
and come to rest
in your
heart.
