Inspired by: The Melting of Molly by Maria Thompson Daviess
No, I was twenty when this town of women all said
with a sigh It will be safe, Bree, not meaning anything
by tying up a frolicking girl,
slow, tired, and not caring for Elijah Jude
in some other world where he wasn't so charmingly
off limits. Some of the women would put me
out of town with mean spirits if they knew
of my wandering eyes
landing on Elijah's strong jaw and the whispered secrets
dancing over our lips in a town too small for secrets. The women
didn't like a young girl eyeing that beautiful young boy, with his leather jacket,
five o'clock shadow and the way words danced off his lips, kissed my ears, mostly
they could see why I did, but they hated that sometimes, just sometimes,
he would look my way and give me a half-smile in secret, meet me behind
that old oak tree where no one would see us amongst the woods. They thought
he should know better than to mess with a small town girl with big city dreams but
their thoughts didn't matter at all amongst their whispered
affairs and small town mothers hovering. Young, long-legged,
frying-size boys scramble to college, grow up where their crow will be heard.
Elijah was them, but he returned for summers,
always meeting me behind that oak
tree with dancing words for my hopeful ears.
YOU ARE READING
The Dragon That Breathes Flowers
PuisiA collection of poetry exploring struggles and growth through the destruction of family obligations and expectations, through love and the ones that weren't the one. Poetry that aims to capture the human experience. I hope it resonates with you wher...
